Earth-717: Daredevil Volume 1
by Over9000Pylons
Summary: An alternate time. An alternate world. Blinded at the age of nine, Matt Murdock had to discover new ways to see. Possessing superhuman senses, Matt has pledged his life to upholding justice, both in a courtroom and on the streets. When a malicious serial killer stalks the people of Hell's Kitchen, Matt must put his resolve to the test as Daredevil, the Man Without Fear.
1. Fear

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 1: Fear

The night was young in New York City. Millions of people were out and about on the busy streets, for both business and pleasure. While the city was perfectly populated during the day, there was a certain liveliness that only appeared at night. The beating heart of New York was its people, and those people were never more themselves than when the sun went down.

This was more true for Matt Murdock than it was for most. As Matt crouched atop the corner of a residential building in Hell's Kitchen, he felt like he could finally shed all pretence. Not that he was necessarily dishonest about himself during the day, but he had a side of himself that he refused to show to anyone else.

The side that craved the adventures of the night.

Matt's costume had both red and black sections, and was made of a lightweight material that allowed for maximum flexibility. To him, this was far more important than durable armour, because he needed to be able to exercise his agility as he moved. He had black gloves and form-fitting boots, as well as a red cowl with two tiny horns that covered the top half of his face.

His look was completed with red pieces over his eyes, preventing anyone from looking into them. What people did not know was that those pieces also did not allow for him to look out, but that was by design. While on one level they were for intimidation, they were also there because Matt did not rely on his eyes.

Matt took in a breath as he focused his superhuman senses. For the past two decades, he had grown accustomed to being deprived of his sight. Instead, all of his other senses had been heightened to an astonishing degree. While at first the amount of sensory input was maddening, he had learned to control his senses so that they were only operating at peak capacity when he chose.

And in this moment, he was choosing to listen.

The footsteps of people on the sidewalk right below him. The horn of an angry taxi driver a block away. A woman yelling at her husband in their apartment because of some lipstick on his collar. The clink of glasses as a group of friends celebrated a birthday in a nearby bar. Some water from the street draining into a sewer grate.

The muffled scream of a woman as someone stuffed a sock into her mouth.

Matt instantly sprung into action. Turning around, he ran along the edge of the building, staying perfectly balanced as he moved at high speed. As he reached the corner, he leaped over the alleyway, effortlessly landing on the opposite roof. He made sure to land on a rolling maneuver, so as to not lose any momentum as he moved.

He could hear the footsteps of multiple men as they dragged the woman with them. Three men. She was struggling, trying to avoid stepping forward. The patter of her shoes against the pavement indicated that they were heels, likely an expensive designer brand. One of the men coughed. He was standing apart from the other two, and was smoking a cigarette. Matt could smell and taste the ash.

One of the men spoke. Even through the man's words, Matt could hear the quickened heartbeat of the woman.

"Stop struggling, or I'll cut off one of your pretty little fingers!"

Mid-thirties. Gruff, throaty voice. Slightly overweight. Accent indicated mix of multiple Eastern European ancestries.

The smoking man spoke.

"Hey, hey! Don't be talkin' that kinda shit. Boss said he wanted her unhurt. No finger cuttin', no nothing, you hear?"

Early thirties. Clear effect of smoking habit on larynx. Thin but lean build. Likely African-American given the dialect and accentuation on certain syllables.

First man spoke again.

"You ain't the Boss, Turk! Don't be telling me what he said. Bad enough we didn't grab any of that art back there. Bet we could pawn that off for some real cash."

"He said no art, just the girl! You want to piss off the Boss, that's your business, man. Remember what happened to Monty? He was in the hospital for weeks."

"Yeah, yeah, lay off. Dick."  
Matt waited for the right moment. Turk opened the back door to a truck that was parked in the alley. Matt was standing right above the group. He could tell exactly where everyone was positioned. Turk stood to the side as the other two men pulled the woman towards the truck. As they stepped inside the back of the truck, Turk placed his cigarette between his lips.

Now.

Matt jumped and landed on the roof of the truck. The impact of his landing jostled the woman and the two men as they were stepping inside, causing all of them to lose their balance and fall to the floor. Turk dropped his cigarette and looked up, seeing the costumed figure standing above him.

"Shit!"

Turk reached for the gun on his belt. Matt anticipated this move and tossed one of his batons. The baton travelled like a bullet, smacking Turk square in the forehead. As Turk fell to the ground, Matt jumped off the truck and landed on the pavement. He grabbed the man closest to him with both hands and threw him out of the truck.

The last man, the one who spoke earlier, got back to his feet. He kicked out at Matt, but his attack was clumsy. Matt easily sidestepped the blow before seizing the man by the leg. Matt brought his elbow down on the man's knee, causing him to yell in pain. Matt then grabbed his shirt with both hands before headbutting him, knocking him out.

Matt could sense that the other man was recovering. Turk was still on the ground. Turning around, Matt pulled out his second baton as the other man brandished a pocket knife. The man swung horizontally, but Matt deflected the attack with the baton. The man then tried a forward stab, but Matt moved far too fast for him.

Getting low, Matt performed a spin kick, striking the man in the shins. Matt spun around and landed another kick before the man had even felt the pain from the first blow. Severely staggered, the man dropped the knife. The clink of the knife landing on the pavement sent a sound wave through the air, giving Matt an even more accurate read of his surroundings.

Matt followed up with an aerial spin kick, hitting the man in the side of his face. As the man fell to the floor, Turk scrambled away, running down the alley.

"What the . . . . some goddamn ninja bullshit!"

Turk grabbed his pistol off the ground, which had gone flying away from him when he was struck by the baton. Matt's ears perked up as he heard Turk wrap his fingers around the weapon. His own heartbeat sped up as he rushed for Turk. He knew that he had no cover in the alleyway, and that if Turk got off a good shot, he would be down for the count.

Matt ran as fast as he could. Turk started to turn around as his finger rested on the trigger. Matt knew he had several options, but he did not know which one would give him the best chance for success. He also knew that he had virtually no time to weigh the pros and cons of any of them. He decided to go with a jumping kick.

Matt's left boot collided with Turk's side, and once again, the gun fell out of his hands. The weapon harmlessly fell to the pavement as Turk went down. Matt then crouched over Turk's body, grabbing him with his left hand. Matt could sense the fear emanating from the hyperventilating man. Matt then threw a downward punch, aimed straight for his face.

With his last opponent incapacitated, Matt stood back up. He took a moment to breathe as the adrenaline stopped pumping. He then made his way back to the truck, where the woman was sitting. Her mouth was still gagged and her hands were bound behind her back. After picking up his baton, Matt pulled the sock out of her mouth before untying her hands.

The woman cringed as she shook out her wrists. Matt finally allowed himself to take stock of her. Early forties. Average but healthy build. Elegant perfume. The way her earrings moved through the air, they had to be fairly large. Clearly upper class.

"They won't be down for long," said Matt. "Get back inside. Lock up. Call the police."

Matt turned around without waiting for a response.

"Wait!"

Matt stopped.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Matt paused for a moment before looking back over his shoulder.

"Daredevil."

Without another word, Matt ran towards the nearby wall before leaping onto a dumpster. Jumping off of it and grabbing at a pipe, he climbed for a few seconds before moving to a fire escape. In less than half a minute, he had scaled the side of the building and left her line of sight. The entire time, Vanessa watched him with great interest.

* * *

Only a few streets away, a group of people filtered out of a bar. The group waved and said their farewells to each other as they went their separate ways. One of them was a young blonde woman, who started making her way down the street. Before she could get very far, one of the group, a black man of similar age, called out to her.

"Hey, Jen!"

Jennifer turned around to look at him.

"Talk to you for a second?" he asked.

Jennifer nodded.

"Look, I'm sorry about all that happened," he said, taking a few steps towards her. "Know we had to play nice cause of the group, but . . . ."

"Jacob . . . ."

Jacob sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. Jennifer folded her arms, but did not move or look away from him.

"I want to make it up to you," he said. "Been thinking about it, all of it. How it all went down. It wasn't right, for you or me. I don't want that to be the end, you know?"

"Yeah," she said. "I know."

"So can we talk? Maybe see if we can figure this all out? Walk you home, maybe?"

Jennifer was silent for a few seconds as she thought over her response.

"I'll walk myself home, Jacob. But we can talk. Thursday, after I get off? Dinner. We'll talk. For real, I promise."

Jacob smiled.

"Sounds good."

"Goodnight, Jacob."

"Night."

Jacob put his hands in his jacket pockets and turned around, walking the opposite way. Jennifer stayed still for a minute, running things over in her mind. Sighing again, she then continued down the street, heading for her apartment. Her walk home only took a few minutes, and was completely uneventful.

Jennifer rubbed her eyes as she unlocked the door to her small apartment. After closing and locking the door behind her, she tossed her purse onto her couch and kicked off her shoes. There was a small table next to the couch, with a picture frame placed next to a lamp. The picture was of her and Jacob smiling together, wearing ski gear and standing on a snowy mountain.

Jennifer made her way to the bathroom, leaving the door somewhat ajar as she went inside. She turned on the water in the shower and started getting undressed. All this time, a silent figure waited in her bedroom. He was standing in the shadows, watching her through the open doorway. He stared as she took off all of her clothes, leaving them in a messy heap on the bathroom floor.

After she stepped into the shower, the figure slowly started moving. He was very methodical in his approach, ensuring that he made no noise as he moved through the apartment. He was wearing a grey cloak over a black bodysuit, with a metal mask over his face that resembled a skull. His right hand was placed inside of a gauntlet that had a scythe blade.

Slipping into the bathroom through the opening, the figure approached the shower. He could see from her silhouette from behind the shower curtain that she was scrubbing her hair. He watched her for a few more precious seconds, running his eyes up and down her body, knowing that he wouldn't get another chance. He then reached for his belt and pulled out his customized pistol.

Aiming at her, the figure then pulled the trigger. A cloud of barely visible gas shot out from the gun. Jennifer gasped, but after a second, she made no other noise. The figure then put the gun back on his belt and pulled the shower curtain out of the way. Jennifer looked at him and opened her mouth, but was shocked to realize she couldn't scream, or make any noise at all.

The figure stayed still for a moment before speaking.

"Don't be afraid."

The figure then swung his scythe blade horizontally, slashing Jennifer across the throat.


	2. Nelson & Murdock

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 2: Nelson & Murdock

Matt was wearing his grey suit as he took his morning walk. He had a pair of red sunglasses over his eyes, and moved with his walking stick. Naturally, he did not actually require it to make his way around the city, but he kept it for the purposes of avoiding suspicion. Nobody knew that he ran across rooftops at night as a costumed vigilante, and he intended to keep things that way.

During his morning walks, he liked to allow his senses to take a rest. It was difficult to constantly be receiving input from so many sources, and so he consciously suppressed them as he strolled about the neighbourhood. He was born and raised in Hell's Kitchen, and he knew it all too well. For the most part, nothing surprised him when he walked along its streets.

But today, he surprised himself when he realized that he had walked right in front of a church that his father used to visit. He had mentally tuned out during the walk, and did not notice the route he was taking until he was already standing before the building. Matt turned and faced the church, taking a few seconds to try and remember the last time he had truly stopped to practice any part of his faith.

Steeling himself, Matt then walked towards the entrance. Once he was inside, he found that the church was relatively empty aside from a couple people who were privately praying. He walked through the congregation area, heading for the altar on the far side. He went towards one of the confessional booths and sat down once he was inside.

A moment later, Father Lantom sat down in the booth's other end. Matt set his stick at his side and took off his glasses. For a full minute, Matt stayed silent.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been . . . . it's been too long since my last confession."

Matt exhaled.

"I don't even know where to start. I wasn't planning on visiting today. I was taking my morning walk, and uh, it just happened. But somehow, when I looked up at the church, I, I felt this need. This pull. I've always been Catholic, but I haven't actually practised as much as I should. Maybe that's the first sin."

"But you were drawn back," said Lantom. "Was it only for confession?"

"I don't know, Father. Truth is, I've been torn inside because of many things. My faith. My future. My . . . . night life. Part of me feels so determined, but another part feels so confused. I guess I'm looking for some clarity, but I haven't found it elsewhere."

"It's difficult to offer clarity unless you offer more specifics."

Matt licked his lips.

"I guess it starts with my dad. He actually used to come this church, you know. Before he, uh . . . . before. It was one of the only things he took time for outside of his job and, and caring for me. No mom. Never met her. Dad said that she left right after I was born. But, I mean, for me at the time, it didn't matter, really. My dad and I, we, we were a team. Unbreakable."

Lantom moved his head back as he listened to Matt's story.

"Dad was a boxer. I was his biggest fan. Every match, I was there. Not always actually there, you know, but I was always watching. Sometimes from home. Every match he ever fought. Every win, every loss. He was good, but he wasn't the best. Didn't have that great of a record. But he prided himself on one thing . . . . he never got knocked out. Not even once."

Matt felt his eyes start to water as he reminisced about his father.

"They had a nickname for him. Battlin' Jack. Battlin' Jack Murdock. He had this red coat he wore. Some people said it made him look like the devil."  
Matt chuckled for a couple seconds before continuing.

"Then, when I was nine, there was an accident. I was walking on the street, not that far from here, and I saw a man about to get hit by this, this chemical truck. Don't know what went through my mind, but, I needed to do something. So I pushed him out of the way. Everything after that was a blur, but . . . . the truck crashed, and the chemicals spilled out."

Lantom folded his arms.

"That was the last day I had my sight," said Matt. "Things were never easy for us, me and my dad, but he took it hard. It was tough at first, but I adjusted. But it broke him. I mean, he tried not to let it show, but I, I could tell. He pushed himself harder, trying to provide the best he could."

Matt paused as he wiped a tear away from his eye.

"Only a few months later, he got the biggest match of his career. Against this guy called Crusher Creel. It was huge. Tons of people showed up. And, and before it started, he met me just outside the locker room. Pulled me aside, and he told me something that I'll never forget."

Matt gulped.

"No matter how scared you are, Matty, don't ever let them know it. Make them think you're the most fearless man in the world."

Lantom lowered his arms and put his hands together in his lap.

"At the time, I didn't understand why he told me that," said Matt. "Just seemed like another bit of fatherly wisdom. But during the match, it started to make sense. I was in the crowd, and, I mean, I obviously couldn't see it, but I could feel it. Every move, every punch. In that fight, he was fearless. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It was the greatest he'd ever been. Knocked Creel out in three rounds. Just, just pummelled him."

Matt put on a slight smile.

"The crowd went insane. It was like it was the spectacle of a lifetime. And for the first time ever, the whole stadium was cheering dad's name. He'd finally made it. In that moment, I was so proud to be his son. In that moment, I was happy."

Matt sighed.

"Less than an hour later, I found my dad shot to death in an alley. Some thug working for a guy named Roscoe Sweeney. Some people called him the Fixer. You can probably figure out what happened. They caught him. Didn't take them that long. Busted the whole gang. But it didn't bring my dad back."  
Matt once again wiped his eyes.

"His words never left me," said Matt. "What he said to me before the match. My time at the orphanage. All through high school. When I went to university, and here now. They're words that, that went deep into my blood. I've worked so hard to purge myself of, of fear. To let myself completely go over to the other side. To be the man my dad was when he was in that ring."

"And where has that led you?" asked Lantom.

Matt exhaled.

"Down a very dark path, Father."

* * *

Matt approached the street corner where Foggy Nelson was standing. Foggy was wearing a similar suit to Matt, but instead of having a walking stick, he had a brown briefcase with a strap slung over his shoulder. Foggy was standing in front of a hot dog cart, and after a brief moment, the attendant handed him a large frank.

Foggy nodded at the attendant before turning away and taking his first bite. Matt walked up to his friend.

"Is that a hot dog?" asked Matt.

Foggy looked at Matt with a raised eyebrow, before responding as he continued to chew.

"How'd you know?"

"I can smell it."

Foggy shrugged as he swallowed.

"Well yeah," he said. "Yeah, it is."

Matt and Foggy started walking together down the street.

"Foggy, it's not even ten in the morning."

Foggy scowled.

"So what? This is America, Matt! Land of opportunity! Land of the free! It's my constitutional right as an American to eat a hot dog for breakfast!"

Matt chuckled as Foggy finished off his hot dog.

"You don't know what you're missing," said Foggy.

"Actually, I think I know exactly what I'm missing," replied Matt. "Just doesn't seem like the healthiest choice first thing in the morning."

"Says you," said Foggy, as he licked his fingers. "But I'll have you know that a hot dog is a full, balanced meal that contains all of the basic food groups. You got your protein from the meat. Bread from the bun, obviously. And with the right toppings, you can get your veggies and some shredded cheese on there, so that's your dairy. Bam! Best meal you'll get all day!"

Foggy flexed his arms and clenched his fists.

"The breakfast of champions, Matt!"

Matt and Foggy shared a laugh.

"And should we not be considered champions?" asked Foggy. "We are two attorneys, journeying out into the great unknown that is private practice! With nothing but our wit and our will to get us through the day, since we both know damn well we don't have any money in the bank. And together, as two best friends in arms, we shall go forth! We shall conquer! And we shall accomplish the greatest feat that any attorney can hope to aspire to!"

Foggy paused for a second as he took in a breath.

"We shall pay the rent!"

Foggy then pointed forward.

"Onward! Our palace awaits!"

A few minutes later, Matt and Foggy arrived in the building that housed their office. The elevator in the building was not working, so they were forced to use the stairs. Once they arrived, Foggy pulled the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. The two men stepped inside and took stock of the situation.

"Man, is this place a palace or what?"

Matt did not offer a response to Foggy's question aside from a barely audible grumble. They stood together in their newly acquired office space, which consisted of a main room and two adjoining offices. They had signed the lease only yesterday, and they were now getting ready to properly set up. There were a few boxes stacked against the wall with some of their belongings.

A lone table was placed in the main room, along with a chair. The offices had no furniture. Matt and Foggy stood in silence for a few seconds before Foggy cringed and gently punched himself on the forehead.

"Right, right, you can't see it," he said.

"How bad is it?" asked Matt.

"It's uh . . . . it's honestly not that bad, considering the rate we're getting it for. Price we were given, it's a steal. Thought we were gonna do way worse when we struck out on our own, which, I might add, is entirely your fault."

"You didn't have to come with me."

"Are you kidding? You're nothing without me!"

Foggy placed his hand on Matt's shoulder.

"What did I tell you that day back at Columbia? It's you and me, man. There's no Nelson without Murdock."

"No Murdock without Nelson?" asked Matt.

Foggy smiled.

"Damn straight!"

Foggy scratched his nose as he walked over to the group of boxes. Matt paced around the room and touched the walls, getting a feel for the geography. Foggy started rummaging through the boxes, rifling through papers and assorted items. His eyes then lit up as he found a baseball.

"What do we have here?"

Matt turned around as Foggy held the baseball in his right hand. Foggy laughed as he gently threw the ball upwards and caught it with the same hand. He then tossed it at Matt, specifically aiming too far to the right.

"Catch!"

Almost automatically, Matt reached out with his right hand and perfectly caught the ball. Foggy gasped and put a hand over his mouth. Matt cleared his throat when he realized that his superhuman senses were actually betraying him in that moment.

"Wow!" said Foggy. "Nice reflexes! I was just being a jerk, but how the hell did you pull that one off?"

Matt shrugged.

"Luck of the Irish, I guess."

"If that's your luck, then we're halfway to being billionaires. We're gonna win cases, be popular, and make money! But first, we're gonna need . . . ."

"Clients? A secretary, maybe?"

"A sign!"

Matt blinked as Foggy pulled out a sheet of white paper and a pen from one of the boxes. He placed the paper against the wall and scribbled "Nelson & Murdock" on it. Tossing the pen back in the box, he then grabbed a scotch tape dispenser and pulled off some pieces. Using the tape, he attached the newly created sign to the front of the door.

Foggy placed his hands on his hips, clearly proud of his work.

"Now it's official," said Foggy. "Nelson and Murdock. Attorneys at law."

Foggy then closed the door and walked back to the boxes as he eagerly rubbed his hands together.

"Alright, let's get to . . . ."

Foggy was interrupted by a knock at the door. Matt and Foggy both turned to face the door, knowing that Foggy had only closed it a few seconds ago.

"That was fast," said Matt.

"Gotta get myself some of that Irish ancestry," said Foggy.

Foggy then reached for the door and twisted the knob.

"And who do we have behind door number . . . ."

Foggy was instantly silenced when he saw who was standing on the other end of the door. She was a beautiful woman, with shoulder length blonde hair and stunning blue eyes. She was wearing a green business blouse and a knee length black skirt. She had a beige purse and a golden necklace. She smiled at Foggy, who blinked in response.

". . . . one."

"Hi," said the woman, as she held out her hand. "Karen Page."

Foggy shook Karen's hand.

"May I come in?" asked Karen.

"Yes, yes," said Foggy. "Absolutely."

Matt momentarily smirked as he sensed Foggy's quickened heartbeat. Karen stepped in the room and looked around. Matt and Foggy stood next to each other. Foggy then gestured towards Matt, who stood with his stick right in front of him, holding it with both hands.

"Allow me to introduce my associate, Matt Murdock."

Matt and Karen shook hands.

"Mister Murdock."

"Miss Page."

Karen then looked back at Foggy.

"Sorry, but I never got your name."

"Oh, right," said Foggy. "Foggy Nelson."

"Foggy?"

"Everyone calls him Foggy," said Matt.

"Only my mother calls me Franklin," said Foggy, weakly chuckling.

Karen nodded.

"I see."

"What can we do for you, Miss Page?" asked Matt.

"Well, uh, I'm here to, uh, apply to a job ad I saw for a secretary position?"

Matt and Foggy both blinked at the same time. They then turned their heads towards each other before leaning in to whisper.

"You didn't put out a job ad, did you?" asked Matt.

"Of course not," answered Foggy. "You think we have the money to do that? Besides, we only signed the lease yesterday! I didn't have the time!"

"Then how did she know about us?"

"How would I know?"

Matt and Foggy then looked back at Karen, who was anxiously rubbing her hands together. After a couple seconds, she gulped and then held up her hands.

"Okay, okay," she said. "I'm sorry. I was just out in the hall, and I overheard one of you guys mention you were looking for a secretary."

Karen sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I was looking through the offices, hoping to find a job. I've been applying everywhere. When I heard you guys talking about how you were just starting out, I figured I'd give it a shot. If you're starting up a law firm, you'll need someone to help out around here."

Karen gestured with her left hand at the stack of boxes against the wall.

"I'm really good with paperwork. I can move stuff and help around the office. I, I have a resume, and uh, some references, if you really need them."

Karen weakly smiled as Matt and Foggy considered her for a moment.

"We certainly appreciate your interest, Miss Page," said Matt. "But we are just starting out, and we don't really have much in the way of clients at the moment."

Foggy's cell phone then vibrated in one of his jacket pockets. He pulled the phone out and placed it against his ear.

"Hello?"

Karen glanced at Matt as Foggy listened to the voice on the other end.

"Really?" said Foggy. "You're serious? Oh, man, you are a miracle worker! I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise. Thanks."

Foggy then hung up and put the phone back in his pockets.

"Never mind what he just said. Matt, we just got our first case. We gotta head down to the precinct, pronto."

"And you say you don't have any luck," said Matt. "Still, we don't know if this will actually end up paying off yet."

Karen then gave a small wave.

"Well, if it gets me the job, I'll work for free until you get your first paycheck from a client."

Matt and Foggy responded in unison.

"You're hired."


	3. Crime Scene

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 3: Crime Scene

"Not the best start to your shift?"

Dakota ignored the question, for she was deep in thought. Her arms folded, she was staring at the body of a woman that was sprawled on the bathroom floor. The woman's legs were still inside the shower, making it look like she had slipped and fallen. However, the large slice across her throat and the pool of blood that had poured from it indicated a different cause of death. But the most striking thing about the body was the fact that there were tears of blood dripping from her eyes.

One of the crime scene workers snapped a photo. The flash broke Dakota's concentration. She blinked and shook her head.

"North," said Brett. "You alright?"

Dakota rubbed her eyes for a second.

"Just thinking."

Dakota placed her hands on her hips as she turned towards her partner, Officer Brett Mahoney.

"What did you get?" she asked.

Brett looked at his notepad.

"Name's Jennifer Leigh. Twenty-five. Worked as a nurse at Metro-General. She was scheduled to be in today starting at seven. Single, no roommates. Makes sense why no one noticed what happened all through the night."

"Any family?"

"Parents, living upstate. Only child. Somebody else already made the call."

Dakota looked over her shoulder at the living room.

"You said she was single?"

"Yeah. No spouse on record. Why?"

Dakota pointed at the picture on the table next to the couch.

"Looks pretty cozy with that guy," said Dakota. "Boyfriend, maybe? We'll have to find him. Contact everyone she worked with at Metro. I want to know who she's friends with, what she was doing last night and most of all, who he is."

Brett nodded.

"I'll have someone get on it. You think it was the boyfriend?"

"It fits," said Dakota. "Door has no signs of forced entry, and it was locked when we got here. She might have let him in, thinking everything was normal. She goes to take a shower, and in the middle of it, he surprises her."

Dakota put a hand on her chin.

"Or not."

Brett raised an eyebrow.

"Got that look in your eye again, North. What are you thinking?"

"Well, there's a problem," said Dakota. "If he surprised her, she would've screamed. But nobody in the building heard anything. I checked with the landlord on the way in, and he said he only has a few vacant apartments, none of them on this floor. If there was any struggle at all, someone would have heard something. But how do you get that close to cut her throat before she notices?"

"Came at her from behind, maybe? Grabbed her around the mouth and slit it that way?"

"No," said Dakota. "I looked close at the wound. It's like a large gash, not a thin cut. Almost cleaved her head clean off. You couldn't cut someone like that with a blade that big while holding them from behind. It had to be from the front. And there aren't any marks of a struggle."

Brett chuckled.

"So what are you saying? Our lady got killed by a ghost?"

Dakota sighed as she looked around the apartment again.

"Maybe."

Dakota then pointed at the body.

"And then, of course, there's the million dollar question. What throat wound causes you to bleed from your eyes?"

"He didn't cut her eyes out?"

"No. They're intact. Perfectly intact . . . . except for the fact that they're bleeding."

"Blood tears," said Brett. "What kinda B-grade horror movie did we just walk into?"

"I don't know," said Dakota. "Horror movies were never my thing."

Dakota then stepped away. Brett pulled out his cell phone and made a call. Dakota walked into the bedroom and looked around. The bed was perfectly made. Another one of the aides was taking a photo of the room. He then reached out to try and move a bottle of medication that was sitting on the nightstand. Dakota saw this gesture out of the corner of her eye and turned to face the aide.

She snapped her fingers at him and scowled.

"Hey!"

The aide looked at her with surprise.

"Don't touch shit! What is this? Amateur hour? Take your photos and get out of here!"

The aide gulped and nervously nodded. He took another photo and then wordlessly rushed out of the room, clearly eager to get away from the furious detective. Still on the phone, Brett smirked to himself as the aide left. Dakota then moved over to the nightstand and narrowed her eyes as she looked at the medication bottle.

Prescription pills for sleep trouble. One of the regular brands. Bottle only had one third of the pills remaining. Likely to help with the high stress of working in a major hospital. Dakota sighed before walking over to the bedroom window, which she knew was the only other possible entry point aside from the door.

The window was closed, and she had checked it earlier for any scuff marks or fingerprints to indicate a potential forced entry. There weren't any, which was another clue that the boyfriend was a likely suspect. But as she went over the facts again in her mind, something was not sitting right with her. Too many of the variables weren't adding up.

"North!"

Dakota turned around to see Brett standing in the doorway.

"I just spoke to Simpson. Says he was already talking to some of the folks at Metro who knew the victim. She was with some friends last night down at Josie's, including a guy named Jacob Griffin, who she supposedly broke up with two weeks ago."

Dakota snapped the fingers on her left hand.

"There we go," she said. "We got a location on him?"

"Yup. Simpson's on it right now."

"Good. Maybe we can finally get some goddamn answers."

* * *

Dakota and Brett arrived at the 15th Precinct. Once they were inside, they walked towards the interrogation rooms, where Officer Will Simpson was waiting for them. He was taller than the two of them, with an athletic build. He was breathing fast and darting his eyes side to side as he waited for his co-workers to arrive.

When he looked to the left and saw Dakota and Brett approach, he licked his teeth without opening his mouth and put his hands on his hips. Dakota gave Simpson a stern look as she walked up to him. She could she that his eyes were bloodshot and his breathing was laboured.

"What?" asked Simpson.

"When you said that you had a location on him," said Dakota, "I didn't think you meant you'd already lugged him back here."

Simpson shrugged.

"Didn't wanna waste time. Besides, Mahoney told me your theory about the crime scene, so I figured we had reason to suspect."

Brett scowled.

"Is that right?"

Simpson sniffed the air and scratched the side of his temple.

"Lay off, Mahoney. I'm just doing my job."

"Sure."

Simpson gestured towards the door to the interrogation room and cleared his throat.

"Don't matter anyway, cause he's waitin' on a lawyer. Don't think he has one, cause he called three different numbers already, and last I checked, he was still trying. Gave him the toll-free number, but he insists he wants a . . . ."

Simpson made finger quotes.

". . . . real advocate."

"Go take a break, Simpson," said Dakota. "We'll take it from here."

Simpson coughed and rubbed his forehead.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure."

Simpson turned away and walked down the hall. Dakota folded her arms and let out a deep sigh. Brett shook his head.

"Looks like we caught Simpson on an off day," said Brett.

"Bullshit," said Dakota.

"Yeah, Simpson's full of crap. In other news, rain is wet and the economy sucks. Nothing we can do about that now. Look, you know we can't talk to Griffin until he gets a lawyer. I might be able to get that figured out. In the meantime, you should get ready to go oversee the post-mortem."

Dakota exhaled.

"Alright. But I'm doing that because it's a good idea, not because you told me to."

Dakota left as Brett pulled out his phone and dialled an old friend.

"Hello?" said Foggy.

"Foggy," said Brett. "You told me to call if I got a case? Well, if you come down to the precinct in the next few minutes, I might have exactly what you need."

"Really? You're serious? Oh, man, you are a miracle worker! I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise. Thanks."

In less than fifteen minutes, Brett saw Matt, Foggy and Karen turn the corner and head towards him. Foggy smiled at Brett and clapped his hands together.

"My man, Brett Mahoney!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, man. Just don't forget that you owe me."

Brett then looked over at Matt.

"Murdock."

"Officer Mahoney."

Matt then gestured towards Karen.

"Please, meet our new employee, Karen Page."

Karen smiled at Brett, who nodded at her in return.

"Ma'am," he said, before looking back at Matt and Foggy. "Guy's name is Jacob Griffin. Suspect in the death of Jennifer Leigh, who was murdered last night. Hasn't been charged. He's in there, and you can talk to him for as long as you want. I'll have somebody bring you a copy of the case files."

Brett then opened the door to the interrogation room. Inside, they found Jacob sitting at a lone table. Once Matt, Foggy and Karen were all inside, Brett closed the door for them. Jacob looked up at the newcomers. Matt could sense his heartbeat, and all of the emotions it suggested.

"Mister Griffin?"

Jacob gulped.

"Yeah?"

"My name is Matt Murdock, and this is my associate Foggy Nelson. We understand that you were seeking legal counsel and we are looking to offer our services."

"You all are lawyers?"

"We are," said Foggy. "Well, uh, he and I are. Miss Page is our assistant."

Karen gave a small wave. Jacob sighed and sat back in his chair.

"I don't know much about how this all works. Tried callin' a few law firms I've heard of, but they're all big shots. I can't afford any of 'em."

"We're a relatively small firm, Mister Griffin," said Matt. "I'm sure we can work something out. And besides, you haven't been charged with a crime. Why don't we just go ahead and discuss the case, and we'll see where it goes from there?"

Jacob nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds good."

Matt and Foggy sat across from Jacob. Karen sat at the side of the table and pulled out a large notepad and a pen. Jacob sighed and put his face in his hands. Matt could sense that he had been bottling his emotional reaction to the situation.

"I don't know how to handle this," said Jacob.

"Let's start at the beginning," said Matt. "Tell us how you knew Jennifer Leigh, and everything that led up to last night."

Jacob exhaled and put his hands on the table. Matt and Foggy both listened attentively as Jacob started telling his story.

"Jen and I . . . . we met a couple years back, through mutual friends."

Karen started writing down everything that Jacob was saying.

"She worked at the hospital. Nurse. She was smart. Put herself through school to get where she was. We met a few times when out with friends or whatever. Chatted sometimes. Anyway, maybe ten months ago or so, we were both at a party and I decide to ask her out for a few drinks. You know, just something casual. No big pressure. She says yes, and it goes well. Really well. Not too long before we're seeing each other a lot."

Jacob put his right elbow on the table and rested his cheek against his fist.

"Been a while since my last relationship. Same thing with her. Said she didn't really have time for it when she was in school. It was real good. She liked doing athletic stuff together. I loved her."

Jacob lowered his hand again and sighed.

"Things only went south six weeks ago. Started arguing about stupid stuff. We both said crap we didn't mean. She was stressed out because things were getting way too hectic at the hospital, and she was having trouble sleeping. I was stressed out because my dad got sick and there's been layoffs at my work, making my job harder."

"And where do you work?" asked Foggy.

"Oscorp R&D facility. The one just down the road. I'm one of the chemical technicians."

Foggy nodded and gestured for Jacob to proceed.

"Anyway, we broke it off two weeks ago. Things were just too sour, I guess. But thinking it over afterwards, it just didn't make any sense. We both knew our feelings were there, we were just having some trouble. Neither of us did anything to hurt each other. I think we both just needed some time to cool off."

Jacob shook his head.

"Last night, it was Stacy's birthday party. Stacy, is, uh, a friend of ours. So we all go down to Josie's to celebrate. She's there, I'm there, and everybody knows we broke up. We didn't fight, we just went along with it. But the whole time, I couldn't get what I was thinking out of my head. So when we're leaving, I call her over, just outside the bar."

"And when is this happening?" asked Matt.

"Probably, uh . . . . close to twelve thirty."

Matt noted to himself that this was almost the exact time that he was fighting off a group of thugs that had tried to kidnap a woman.

"So I call her over, and I ask if we can talk. You know, try to figure things out. She says yes, and I offer to walk her home. She didn't want that, but promised we'd talk later."

At that moment, Matt focused keenly on Jacob's heartbeat. During the entire conversation, he had not picked up any glaring clues that Jacob had been lying about anything, but he needed to be absolutely certain. Everything seemed to slow down as he concentrated his superhuman senses.

"So I go home and go to sleep," said Jacob, as tears started to well in his eyes. "Next thing I know, a cop rolls up to my door in the morning wanting to ask me questions. Says that Jennifer was murdered, and her co-workers at Metro told him who I was. I couldn't believe it. Just a few hours ago, she and I were talking, and now, now she's dead."

Karen glanced at Jacob with concern as he sobbed.

"Oh, Jenny . . . . why'd this have to happen to you? And why'd they think I do it? I didn't do anything! I loved her. I just wanted to make things right. You believe me, don't you?"

There was a moment of silence. Then, Matt spoke up.

"Yes, Mister Griffin. I believe you."

Jacob sighed with relief and held his hands together.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you."

* * *

Dakota, once again with her arms folded, waited as Alex Kurtz finished off his examination of Jennifer's corpse. Kurtz yawned as he printed off a copy of his examination report. Dakota repeatedly tapped her foot as he handed her the paper.

"Kurtz, save my day. Please tell me you found something useful."

"Pretty sure," said Kurtz. "Didn't need to do much guesswork to see that the major laceration was the cause of death. The real puzzle was the ocular hemorrhaging, which came across as pretty weird to me, obviously. But then, I discovered a non-lethal synthetic toxicant in her bloodstream."

"Let me guess. Probably has some super long, hard to pronounce name that won't mean jack shit to me. Am I right?"

"Well, no, actually. I've never seen anything like it before. I mean, I have, but not this exact chemical formula. Whoever our guy is, he has to be one hell of a chemist."

Dakota narrowed her eyes as Kurtz continued.

"And, from my lab analysis, it's what caused her to bleed from her eyes. Weird thing though, is that it doesn't trigger that reaction unless the victim is dead. But it does have another function."

"Which is?"

"Acute laryngitis. Whatever this thing is . . . . it would make her unable to scream."


	4. Dakota North

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 4: Dakota North

Even though there were many newer gyms that had opened over the years, Fogwell's Gym was a staple of Hell's Kitchen that had managed to survive. Having been around for just over four decades, it was something of a minor miracle that, against all odds, the somewhat beaten establishment was still doing well.

While Fogwell's very rarely attracted new clientele, the people who had always gone there refused to give it up, and they were very proud of their association with a gym that stood as a testament to the history and legacy of their neighbourhood. One of those people was Dakota North. Her father and older brother had gone to Fogwell's, and even though they were both gone now, she naturally picked up the habit.

Dakota exhaled as she walked through the front door, seeing that there were only a few people inside. She didn't talk to anyone on the way in, although the lady behind the reception desk waved at her. Dakota waved in return. Most of the Fogwell's regulars were well known enough that they didn't even need to show their membership cards, because the people who ran the gym knew they who they were and that they were trustworthy to pay their fees on time.

After putting her hair in a ponytail and jumping rope for a while, Dakota then put her hand wrap on and headed for her preferred punching bag. Taking in a breath, she then started wailing on the bag, with more intensity than she usually had. For her, nothing was more satisfying than unleashing a string of combo punches.

For the next few minutes, she just worked out her stress on the punching bag. She was so focused on annihilating her inanimate target that she didn't notice another person enter the gym. Matt also waved at the lady behind the desk, who raised her eyebrow when she saw him. She knew who Matt was, but he normally showed up after hours, because of a special arrangement he had made with the owner.

Matt uses his senses to get a read on everything that was happening in the room. A couple of men were sparring in the boxing ring. Another pair were working at the weights. Most interestingly, a lone woman was using one of the punching bags. Matt smirked to himself as he realized that she was using the punching bag that he normally worked with.

After getting himself ready, Matt moved over the punching bag next to Dakota. He started off with some light punches, whereas she was mercilessly beating her bag. She had no way of knowing it, but with each blow, sound waves were sent through the air that allowed Matt to fully visualize her. She had a fierce edge and an athletic build that he found particularly attractive.

Dakota scowled as she then landed a haymaker, and Matt blinked as he sensed that the bag was knocked farther by her blow than he had ever managed. Matt stopped and turned towards Dakota as she let out a couple deep breaths and put her hands on her hips.

"Nice punch," said Matt.

Dakota glanced at him.

"Thanks."

"Just be sure to leave some for me."

"Huh?"

"That's the one I normally use. I don't mind. I'm just saying."

Dakota nodded as she stepped over to her gym bag and pulled out her water bottle. She took a large gulp before sealing the bottle and tossing it back in the bag. She then started lightly punching, maintaining a similar pace to Matt. The two were silent for a couple minutes.

"What's your name?" asked Matt.

Dakota didn't turn to face Matt.

"Dakota North."

Matt chuckled.

"Sounds like a comic book character."

Dakota scoffed.

"Yeah? What's yours?"

"Matt Murdock."

"Sounds like an asshole."

Matt laughed.

"Maybe," he said. "But you gotta admit, it's got a bit of a ring to it."

Dakota smirked.

"Maybe."

"I actually meant what I said in a good way. I used to love comics when I was a kid. I'd still read them if I could."

Dakota raised an eyebrow.

"And why can't you? Something wrong with your . . . ."

Dakota looked over, and saw Matt's gym bag on the floor. His walking stick was placed on top of it. She then looked at Matt's glasses as he turned to face her. The blood drained from Dakota's face.

"Oh, shit."

"It's alright," he said, smiling. "Guess we're even now."

Dakota sighed.

"Guess so."

"But, if you really feel bad, you could make it up to me after we're done. Lunch?"

Dakota folded her arms and tilted her head to the side.

* * *

Matt and Dakota sat across from each other as they started eating their subs. Dakota had certainly not planned on spending any time today with a man she had just met, but she found something strangely charming about Matt. She would never admit it to him, especially so soon after meeting him, but she found his sly smile irresistible.

"I haven't seen you around the gym before," said Dakota.

"I have an arrangement with the owner. Because I'm blind, he lets me come at night. Don't usually go during regular hours. Glad I did today, though."

There was that smirk again. Dakota slightly shook her head.

"Always gone to Fogwell's?" asked Matt.

"Yeah. Used to be dad's favourite place. Same with Ricky, my brother. Sort of a family thing. Guess I picked up on it."

"Wow. Same here. No siblings, but my dad went there all the time. I went with him even when I was a kid. Didn't really have a choice back then, since it was just the two of us."

"Your mom wasn't around?"

"No. I've, uh, never met her. She left my dad right after I was born. He didn't talk about it much. Can't say I blame him."

Dakota frowned.

"Shitty thing to do. Who just walks away from their kid like that?"

"I wouldn't know."

Dakota sighed.

"Guess this is the part where I say I'm grateful my mom wasn't like that. She was the one who came up with my name, you know? Still don't know where the hell she got the idea."

"Maybe she saw the opportunity and decided she couldn't pass it up."

"Maybe. Got used to it fast enough. People always made jokes about it, but I guess I just sort of started to own it after a while. Just don't get me started about the time I had a feud in high school with a girl named Carolina South."

Matt and Dakota both laughed.

"You're joking," said Matt.

"Wish I was."

Matt checked her heartbeat. She wasn't joking.

"High school was a gong show," said Dakota. "Suppose that's the way it was for everyone. Ricky helped me through it though. He was always my biggest supporter. Back then, anyway."

Matt could sense Dakota gulping as she spoke about her brother.

"No siblings for you, huh?"

Matt shook his head.

"No. Dad died not long after I lost my sight. Went to an orphanage after that. I was by myself for a long time."

"Man, can't even imagine what that would be like," said Dakota. "No mom. No siblings. Blind since you were a kid. Dad dies soon after. And here I thought a ton of paperwork was a rough day."

"Imagine doing all that paperwork in braille."

Dakota chuckled.

"No shit."

"It's actually easier than it looks."

"I'll take your word for it."

Dakota ate the last of her sub as Matt sat back in his seat.

"Still close with your brother?"

"Ricky? Uh . . . ."

Faster heart rate.

"Not . . . . totally. We just, sort of, uh . . . . drifted apart, I guess."

She was lying.

"Just been making my way on my own the last few years," said Dakota. "Working as a cop, it gives you a lot of perspective. I see every part of this city. You see the bad, sure, but it also makes you realize just how much good there is out there that's worth protecting. It feels good to know that I have a purpose, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean."  
Once they were finished eating, Matt and Dakota left the restaurant together. On the way out the door, Dakota saw a stack of newspapers placed on a rack on one of the service counters. Noticing the image on the front page, Dakota grabbed a copy and held it open as the pair stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The image was an artistic rendering of a man in a red and black costume, which had been done for the front page article.

 _DAILY BUGLE_

 _ANOTHER SIGHTING OF VIGILANTE KNOWN AS 'DAREDEVIL'_

 _Local Art Dealer Vanessa Marianna Claims "He Saved My Life"_

 _By Ben Urich_

Dakota stood still and started reading the article. After a few seconds, Matt spoke up.

"Reading something interesting?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just a . . . ."

Dakota then blinked and looked over at Matt.

"How the hell did you know I was reading?"

"I heard you pick up the paper."

"Shit. You've got good ears."

Dakota looked back down at the article.

"Yeah, was just reading about this Daredevil guy. I still don't know what to make of him."

"Why?"

Dakota sighed as she lowered the paper. She tossed it into a nearby recycling bin and then started heading down the street, with Matt walking alongside her.

"It's tough to say," said Dakota. "Some people think that he's doing some real good. Doesn't change that he's wearing a mask and taking the law into his own hands. If he wants to help save lives, that's all well and good. I applaud him."

Dakota narrowed her eyes.

"But he should be doing it in a uniform, not in a costume."

"Is it possible that he has a good reason for wearing a costume?"

Dakota shook her head.

"There's no reason good enough for a double life. He's doing this outside the law, and that means he has something to hide. Maybe I'm sounding a little harsh, especially since he's helped people. I'm not saying he hasn't done some good things. But he should be transparent about it, instead of hiding in the shadows."

Matt and Dakota then walked past a condemned building. It used to be a place where people made their homes, but now it was a decaying husk of what it once was. Matt sighed upon sensing that there were still people who were trying to survive inside of the building. As much as he tried to help his city, he knew that there were certain problems that he simply wasn't equipped to fix.

The two of them then arrived at a corner. Dakota turned towards Matt.

"Listen, Matt, I have to get back to it."

"I understand. Still, I certainly liked getting to know more about you. I hope that, uh, time willing, that can continue. If you want it to."

Dakota put her hands on her hips and considered him for several seconds.

"Yeah," she finally said. "I think I'd like that."


	5. Moonlight Shadow

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 5: Moonlight Shadow

As the evening settled in over New York, a woman was working in the District Attorney's Office in Manhattan. She had one of the window offices, allowing her to see out into the city that she worked for. However, at this moment, she was not looking out at the city, but was rather pacing back and forth behind her desk, her arms folded over her chest.

She was in her late-forties, and was wearing a dark blue business dress. She had a pair of golden hoop earrings, and had her red hair in a pixie cut. Her name was Rachel Dreyfuss, and she was one of the Assistant District Attorneys who worked for the county of New York.

She was not happy.

"You told me you could get this squared away."

There was a phone speaker on Rachel's desk.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dreyfuss," said the male voice on the other end of the line. "I can do it. It just, uh, it just might take a little longer than I expected."

"How long? Another week? Another month?! I don't have that kind of time! My approval numbers are only three points behind Tower, but that still means that I lose! Do you understand?! I did not come this far to have to sit out another term as a goddamn ADA! Get it done, or I swear to god, I will chop your balls off and feed them to my rottweiler! Do you hear me?!"

"Y-Yes, Mrs. Dreyfuss. Right, right away!"

"Good."

The man hung up. Rachel took a couple deep breaths to calm herself. She sat on the end of her desk and ran her fingers through the hair over her left ear. After mulling through her thoughts for a couple minutes, she then sat down in her chair and started looking over the files from the Jennifer Leigh case that her assistant had brought her earlier that day.

Rachel held her hands together as she read through the case files again. She had already made a decision about what she was going to do, but now she was using her analytical mind to solidify her position. As she was jotting down some notes, she heard a knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal Sarah, her young assistant.

"Mrs. Dreyfuss, there is a . . . ."

Sarah was interrupted by Dakota pushing past her and walking into the room. Rachel furrowed her brow at Sarah, who apologized with a shrug. Sarah then closed the door as Dakota stepped in front of Rachel's desk. She put her hands on her hips as Rachel looked up at her.

"Officer North. To what do I owe the pleasure of you barging into my office?"

"You know damn well what I'm here about," said Dakota. "What the hell is this bullshit I hear about you pushing to prosecute Jacob Griffin? The investigation is nowhere near over!"

Rachel narrowed her eyes as she stayed silent for a few seconds.

"Prosecution is my job, Officer North. Jennifer Leigh's case was given to me, and it's my job to decide when to prosecute. However, any information you have about my intentions regarding this case is hearsay on your part."

"Oh, drop the act! I know what you're up to. You think I can't figure out what's going on?"

"I certainly hope you can. That tends to be an important part of police work."

Dakota scowled.

"You think this is the last high profile case you need in your repertoire right before elections. You want this case locked and away so you can add it as one more bullet point to your campaign flyers. You want to be District Attorney so bad that you'll willingly piss on the entire justice . . . ."

Rachel stood up and put both of her hands on her desk.

"You'll shut your mouth right now," said Rachel. "I don't have to tolerate this kind of slander, especially not in my own office. You think you're the first hot-blooded shit disturber who's tried to undermine me?"

Dakota and Rachel glared at each other.

"I have a dozen or so felony cases that I'm juggling right at the moment. I have an idiot husband who can't balance his checkbook or get it up. I'm trying to manage a political campaign that has a million and one little duties that I know I can't entrust to anyone else. And despite all that, I could still rip your career out right out from under you so fast that you wouldn't even be able to count the number of holes you just got fucked in."

Dakota clenched her teeth as Rachel continued.

"So if you feel like having a job tomorrow, you'll kindly leave my office and forget this conversation ever happened."

Rachel put on a feigned smile.

"Are we good?"

Dakota shook her head.

"Not even close."

"Get out."

Dakota turned around and marched out of Rachel's office. Dakota flung the door open as she left. Sarah tepidly stepped into view, looking at Rachel with a frown. Rachel sighed before beckoning Sarah to come inside. The young assistant silently closed the door behind her before turning back to her boss. She gulped as she looked at Rachel.

"Please make sure to alert me if she ever shows up again."

Sarah nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And give a call back to Senator Cherryh's office. Make sure he hasn't forgotten about our meeting tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Miss Santini?"

Sarah blinked.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Do try to develop something of a backbone in the future."

Sarah nervously nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"And . . . . done."

Karen exhaled and put her hands on her hips. She looked around at the office, which she had just finished setting up. All of the boxes had been unpacked, and the new furniture had been set in place. While it was still only three small rooms, Nelson & Murdock now had a completely functioning office space to work from.

Foggy stepped out of his office and looked over at Karen, who gestured around the room.

"What do you think?"

"I think that you're a shoe-in for employee of the month."

Karen raised an eyebrow.

"I'm your only employee."

"Exactly! A shoe-in, I tell you!"

Karen rolled her eyes. Matt then walked out of his office.

"Good work today, Karen."

"How would you know?" asked Foggy. "This place could be a complete disaster. You would never know."

Matt smirked.

"Well, I'm trusting Miss Page's integrity to do her job and not take advantage of my good faith."

Karen warmly smiled. Foggy threw up his hands.

"This guy," he said. "Anyway, we couldn't consider ourselves professionals until the office was finished. Now that it is, I vote that we celebrate by getting completely wasted! Who's with me?"

"I'm in," said Karen.

Matt shook his head.

"I don't think so."

"Oh, come on, Murdock," said Foggy. "It's not like we actually have to work yet. Jacob hasn't been arrested or charged, and it's not like we got anyone else clawing at our door. Don't abandon me like this. I thought we were a team!"

"You and Karen go ahead. I think I'm going to be boring and just go home."

Foggy shrugged.

"At least you know what you are. Karen?"

Karen nodded as she grabbed her purse off the desk.

"Yeah! Let's go!"

Foggy and Karen walked together out of the office.

"Later, Matt!"

Matt sighed as they left. He took a few seconds to himself, listening to their footsteps as they walked down the hall. After packing up his things, Matt also left the office. However, he had no intention of staying at home that night. While a part of him wished that he could join Foggy and Karen for their night out, he knew that he had another responsibility.

In less than half an hour, Matt was running across the rooftops of Hell's Kitchen in his Daredevil costume. As a citizen, he was allowed to go pretty much wherever he wanted, but he did not feel truly free until he was leaping from roof to roof. He had developed parkour skills for the past several years in secret, and by now, there was no pathway through the city that he could not master.

Matt stood at the edge of a roof. Tilting his head downwards, he allowed the sounds of the city to give him a full scene of the area around him. He then climbed down the fire escape, heading for a particular window. Matt exhaled as he crouched next to the window. He obviously could not look through it, but he still knew that this was the window that led to Jennifer Leigh's apartment.

After their discussion with Jacob at the precinct, Matt and Foggy had been provided copies of the case files for Jennifer's murder. After carefully reading over the crime scene and post-mortem reports, Matt knew that something was not right about the case. There was some variable that was missing, and he figured that it had to do with the entry point.

Taking off the glove on his right hand, Matt gently and slowly started moving the tips of his fingers around the edges of the window. The case report noted that the window had been found in a closed and locked state, and that no key for the window had been found anywhere in the apartment. Matt felt for any kind of grooves or scuff marks that would indicate that the window had been forced, but there were none.

Exhaling, he then stopped moving his fingers once he felt a small metallic circle. It was the other end of the lock, with a keyhole that matched the one on the inside. The lock could have been opened from this side, but that still meant that a key would have been required. The lock could have been picked, but the keyhole was in the default position, indicating that it had not been tampered with. The murderer could have stolen Jennifer's window key after killing her, but that still did not explain how he got inside in the first place.

Matt furrowed his brow as he ran over the facts again in his head. The apartment only had two entry points: the door and the window. Both were locked when the police arrived, with no signs of forced entry as far as the investigators could find. Keys were discovered in the victim's purse, along with her wallet and phone. Somehow, Jennifer Leigh had been murdered in her home without anyone noticing, and without anyone knowing how the assailant entered or exited the apartment.

Matt was so consumed in his own thoughts that he almost did not hear the sound of another heartbeat. He then quickly turned around, sensing that someone was standing on the roof across the alley from Jennifer's building. Upon hearing the heartbeat again, Matt received a visual impression of the figure.

Male. Nearly six feet tall. Age unknown. Wearing a bodysuit, similar to Matt's. Cloak blowing in the wind. Metal mask over the face, resembling a skull. Right hand encased in a gauntlet that had a scythe blade attached.

A scythe blade.

The exact type of weapon that would fit the laceration wound that killed Jennifer.

Matt immediately jumped upwards, climbing back up the fire escape. The figure turned around and sprinted across the rooftop. Once he was high enough, Matt leaped over the alley and rolled upon landing on the opposite roof. By this time, the figure was already at the other side of the building. He was fast.

Matt gave chase. The figure was agile enough to jump to the next building despite his outfit. However, Matt could tell that the figure was not quite as athletic as he was, for he was already gaining on him. Matt made the jump to the next building, feeling with his feet that the roof was not quite as stable as the last one because it was undergoing construction.

The figure kept moving, but Matt was catching up. Matt got within a few metres of the figure when he suddenly spun around and slashed out with his scythe. The figure moved far faster than Matt was anticipating. He only managed to leap backwards and out of the way of the attack with milliseconds to spare. Matt landed on his feet as the figure stood still and looked straight at him.

For a few seconds, the two men did nothing, both of them trying to get a read on their opponent. Finally, the figure spoke. His voice was deep and modulated, so Matt could not use it determine anything about his identity.

"The vigilante I've heard so much about."

Matt stayed silent.

"They call you Daredevil. They say that you save lives."

Matt inhaled.

"But you were too late to save her."

"You," said Matt. "You killed Jennifer Leigh."

"I released her. Set her free from a world of strife and pain. Set free her potential, for there is nothing more beautiful than a dead woman. She deserved nothing less."

"You're a murderer, and I'm going to bring you to justice."

"Justice? Prancing on rooftops, beating up muggers and purse-snatchers? Playing at being a hero in a city infested with criminals? Is that what you call justice?"

Matt felt his heart rate increase as his anger rose.

"And what do you call what you do?" asked Matt.

The figure rotated his right wrist side to side.

"Therapy."

Matt clenched his fists.

"You're insane."

"How ironic . . . . coming from the man who dresses as the devil."

Matt could not contain himself anymore. He ran forward and yelled as he held his right fist back. The figure's heart rate did not change despite Matt charging straight for him. At the last second, the figure used his left hand to draw his customized pistol. He pulled the trigger, and a cloud of gas shot out from the gun.

The figure then stepped back as Matt reeled from breathing in the gas. He stumbled backwards, disoriented by the unforeseen attack. Matt figured that he would have coughed, but found that he was suddenly mute. His sensory input became unregulated, jumping up and down in sensitivity completely at random. The figure calmly started to march towards Matt.

The figure slashed his scythe horizontally, but Matt managed to dodge out of the way in time. Shaking his head, Matt then tried to punch at the figure, but his attack was slowed and clumsy. Without his senses operating properly, Matt could not coordinate his body. He tried to punch again, but the figure caught his fist with his left hand.

The figure then swiped his scythe upwards, cutting Matt across the chest. Matt would have screamed in pain, if he was capable of screaming at that moment. Matt again stumbled back as he grasped at his chest. The figure continued to move slowly, stalking his prey and knowing that he was in complete control of the situation.

Using the side of his fist, Matt then punched himself in the chest several times in a rhythmic pattern. The controlled rhythm of the sound waves gave him some semblance of a read on his environment. Although his senses were still in disarray, he at least could give himself something to work with.

The figure then slashed again, but this time Matt countered the blow. Matt grabbed the figure's arm before landing an elbow strike on his chest. The figure groaned before spinning backwards and ripping himself from Matt's grasp. Matt used this opportunity to pull out a baton. The figure aimed his pistol again, but this time, Matt swung his baton, knocking the gun out of his enemy's hands.

The figure retaliated with another vertical slash, cutting at Matt's arm. Matt winced as he fell to one knee. The figure tried to bring his blade down on his foe's neck, but Matt jumped up just in time to land an uppercut against the figure's mask. Matt shook his fist in pain from impacting with the metal. The figure then seized Matt around the throat before turning and throwing him behind him.

Matt tumbled to the floor, with the impact of his body breaking a hole through the roof. Matt fell to the next floor, his body slamming on concrete. He felt every bone in his body throbbing with pain as he bled from both his wounds and his mouth. The figure looked down at him, casting a shadow on Matt due to the moonlight. He heard the figure speak one last time before passing out.

"Don't be afraid."


	6. Sex and the City

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 6: Sex and the City

"Ugh."

Matt coughed as he awoke. Taking a couple seconds to put his thoughts together, he then realized that he was once again capable of making noise with his larynx. He remembered from the post-mortem report that a toxicant that causes acute laryngitis was found in Jennifer Leigh's body. Clearly the effect wore off after a short time.

Matt breathed in and out as he started to take in his surroundings. Lack of natural light, likely meaning that it was not yet morning. Relatively quiet. Body was no longer on concrete, but instead on cushioned surface. A sofa inside of an apartment. A gentle tap against his chest gave Matt a better read, letting him know where the adjacent rooms were.

He recognized the layout. A second later, the door to the bedroom opened, and a familiar person stepped through it.

"Claire."

"Look who's awake," said Claire."Can't wait to hear what you got yourself into this time."

Matt took a few more deep breaths as Claire walked over to the couch. She sat down next to his body, looking down at him with concern. Matt gulped as he got a read on her facial features using his senses. She was frowning.

"How did I get here?" asked Matt.

Claire sighed.

"Stumbled in through my window just after one in the morning. Looked like you had been through hell. Lucky for you, your wounds were nothing I couldn't handle."

Matt shook his head.

"I don't remember . . . ."

"What do you remember?"

"I was tracking someone down. A murderer. Guy with a mask . . . . and a scythe."

Claire raised an eyebrow.

"A scythe? Seriously?"

"Yeah. A gauntlet on his hand with a scythe attached. He was the one who killed that nurse."

"Jennifer?"

"You knew her?"

Claire looked down at the floor and held her hands together.

"Yeah. We weren't close, but sometimes we'd be on the same shift. Talk about this or that. Heard that some of the other nurses were questioned by a cop about her death. You're telling me she was killed by a guy with a mask and a scythe?"

Matt nodded. Claire glanced away for a moment.

"If you told me that six months ago, I would've said you were crazy. But now I know about a man in a mask who tries to help people, so why not one who tries to kill them?"

Matt coughed again. He then cringed as a sharp pain shot up his chest.

"Don't move too much," said Claire. "I don't want you losing more blood than you already have. I thought those cuts might have been knife wounds. Scythe guy did this?"

"Yeah."

"I still think you should let me put some kind of body armour into your costume."

"No. Would slow me down too much."

Claire scoffed.

"So you said last time you came here, barely holding your guts in! Obviously you aren't fast enough. Scythe guy almost tore you apart!"

"It wasn't his speed. If I had the chance, I know I could outfight him. But he came at me with something I wasn't expecting. A gun that fired some kind of gas. Somehow caused my senses to go haywire. I was disoriented, so I couldn't fight back."

"And what would have happened if he had a gun that fired bullets? Would that have disoriented you? I thought you could sense slight movements. How did he surprise you?"

"We spoke. He admitted to what he did, and it was clear he was going to kill again. He got a rise out of me. I was scared. Scared of what might happen if I didn't stop him, and I . . . ."

Matt sighed and blinked.

"He was obviously trying to goad me into making a mistake. It worked. I was careless."

"You're lucky to be alive . . . . and that I'm so willing to help you for some reason."

"You help me because you know I'm doing the right thing."

Claire glared at Matt.

"But are you going to get yourself killed in the process?"

"That's the risk I have to take."

Claire let out another sigh as she looked away from Matt. She then stood up and started to walk away. She made her way towards her bedroom door, but stopped herself from going inside. Placing her right hand against the wall, she then turned around.

"Look . . . ."

Claire stopped when she saw that Matt was already gone. Her living room window was half open. She folded her arms as she looked at her empty apartment.

"You're welcome."

* * *

"So you're saying that, as far as you know, Mister Griffin has never made any statements that might lead you to believe he would want to cause Jennifer Leigh bodily harm?"

Larry shook his head. Dakota and Brett were standing in a break room with him. Larry was a co-worker of Jacob's at one of Oscorp's Research and Development facilities, and the latest in a list of employees that the two officers had spoken to.

"No, never," said Larry. "He spoke about her a few times, but it was always positive. You know how it is. When you spend so much time working together, you inevitably learn about who people are involved with."

Dakota and Brett glanced at each other, because they both knew exactly what he meant.

"Far as I ever knew, she was a great girl, and Jacob considered himself a lucky guy. Always seemed like he thought the world of her. Didn't even know they had broken up until you told me."

Brett continued writing on his notepad. Dakota put her hands on her hips.

"And what about your relationship with Mister Griffin?" asked Dakota. "You two are on reasonably good terms?"

Larry scratched his dark blonde hair for a moment.

"Yes, of course. He's good at his job. Wouldn't say we were necessarily very close, but he and I were always friendly to each other. He's really well liked around here. Good guy, known for being reliable. Can't think of anyone in the lab who has any contempt for him."

Dakota exhaled as she looked over at Brett.

"Okay," said Dakota. "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're more than welcome," said Larry.

At that moment, another man walked into the room. Larry nodded at him.

"Donovan."

Donovan returned Larry's nod before looking at the two officers.

"Officers. You get what you need?"

"Yeah, I would say so," said Brett. "We appreciate your cooperation, Mister Zane. Please extend our thanks to the rest of your employees."

"I'll do that, if you can let us all get back to our jobs."

Dakota stopped herself from saying something in response to Donovan's rude tone, knowing that it really wasn't worth it. She and Brett then turned away and left through a nearby hallway. Once they were outside, they walked down the block towards their squad car, which was parked out in front of a mattress store that was situated next to the Oscorp facility.

Dakota and Brett both entered the car, with Brett in the driver's seat.

"That was fun," said Brett.

"Yeah, right," said Dakota. "We got a conga line of folks who all talk about Jacob like he's a goddamn patron saint. Never did anyone wrong, never pissed anyone off. I can't believe this."

Brett shrugged.

"Some killers are charming."

Dakota shook her head.

"No. It still doesn't add up. Yes, the killer must have used some sort of synthesized chemical on her, so of course it makes Jacob look suspect. But there's something else. It seems a little too obvious. Almost like someone knew that Jacob would get blamed for this."

"You really think he's innocent?"

Dakota closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

"I think there's something we're missing, but I don't know how to find it."

Brett smiled.

"You'll find it. Or maybe I'll find it, and you'll find some way to take the credit."

Dakota momentarily chuckled. She then looked down and put her hands in her lap. Brett looked over at her with concern.

"Hey."

Dakota blinked, but otherwise didn't respond.

"Dakota? What is it?"

Dakota was silent for a few seconds.

"Something about this case, it's reminding me of, um . . . ."

Dakota paused and looked out the window.

"Ricky?" asked Brett.

"Yeah."

Brett nodded and went silent. Having worked with Dakota for a while, he knew that he did not need to say anything when she thought of her brother. He just needed to give her a few moments to herself. As expected, a minute later, Dakota cleared her throat and looked forward.

"Alright," she said. "Let's go."

Brett turned the keys and started driving down the street. As they left, Donovan watched them with narrowed eyes from the window in his office.

* * *

"You sure this is what you want to be doing?"

"Yeah," said Matt. "I'm sure."

Dakota rolled her eyes.

"Alright."

Dakota stretched out her legs and ran in place as Matt took off his sweater. As he did, his shirt was pulled upwards, allowing Dakota to get a view of his chest. While she did get the chance to appreciate his incredibly well toned body, her eyes were drawn towards a cut on his chest that had been stitched back up.

"Ouch," said Dakota. "What happened there?"

Matt tossed his sweater back in his bag before turning towards Dakota.

"Accident. Got a bit careless when I was taking out the garbage, and uh . . . . fell down. It's not as bad as it looks, trust me."

"You really sure this is what you want to be doing? I mean . . . ."

"As I said, it was an accident. It happens, but not often. I wouldn't have suggested this if it wasn't what I wanted to do. I like to keep in shape."

Dakota ran her eyes up and down Matt's body, figuring to herself that he wouldn't notice.

"That, I can tell."

"Besides, if I fall, you'll be there to catch me."

Dakota couldn't help but smile as Matt put on his best smirk.

"That's a hell of a lot of faith you got there," said Dakota.

"Consider it a gesture of trust."

A moment later, Dakota and Matt started jogging together on one of the paths in Central Park. Their pace was just fast enough to be a solid workout without completely exhausting them. While Dakota did not doubt Matt's athleticism, she was somewhat surprised at how Matt kept up with her without any signs of being hindered by his blindness.

He had suggested this idea for their date without any hesitation. She had always enjoyed athletic dates, so it was the perfect suggestion as far as she was concerned. But the way Matt seemed so completely confident as he moved still caught her slightly off guard. If she didn't already know, she never would have guessed that he was blind.

Then again, she reminded herself that she had never really spent a significant amount of time with a blind person before. She realized that it was ignorant of her to assume that he would avoid any particular activities just because of his disability. As she looked forward and became consumed in her thoughts, she only barely noticed Matt do something out of the corner of her eye.

He leaped over a branch that was in his way. Dakota did not say anything, nor did she give any indication that she had seen it happen. But she couldn't help but wonder how he had just accomplished that feat. The branch was completely still, but somehow Matt had timed his jump perfectly. She once again started to lose herself in her thoughts when Matt's voice snapped her back into the moment.

"How you holding up?"

"I work as a cop in Hell's Kitchen," said Dakota. "A run would never wear me out."

"Heh, I wasn't doubting you. Say, as a cop, you've gotta have some interesting stories. Any particular cases stand out for you? I mean, that you can talk about."

Dakota smirked.

"Yeah, got a couple good ones. Was this one time, oh, I dunno, just over two years back. Got a call from this woman who was completely frantic, saying that she thought her husband might need medical attention."

Dakota and Matt slowed down their pace somewhat as she told her story.

"I get there, and she's outside with her two kids. Boy and a girl. Looked really similar, so I thought they might be twins. Anyway, she said that the bedroom door was locked, and that no matter how much she yelled his name, he wouldn't come out. She thought maybe he had passed out, had a heart attack, whatever. So I try calling his name, shouting that the police were here. Nothing. So I decide to kick the door down."

"And?"

"I go in there expecting to find a body, but instead, first thing I see is a plain view of this dude's dick. He's sitting right there on the bed, buck ass naked with his laptop. Has these giant headphones on, and he's jackin' it like a madman."

Matt and Dakota laughed.

"He didn't even hear me kick the door down! Wasn't until I waved my hand in front of his face that he knew I was even there. Wife had a fit, obviously. But the dude was real friendly. Didn't even seem embarrassed. Easily one of the most entertaining shifts I've had."

"Well, it's good that you can get some laughs out of your job every once in a while. Imagine it helps offset the rougher days, at least somewhat."

"Yeah. Somewhat."

"How did you file a report on it?"

"Very carefully."

The two shared another laugh. They continued to talk during the rest of their run, allowing both of them to enjoy some lighthearted conversation that they both sorely needed. Afterwards, they ended up going to Dakota's apartment. Dakota wasn't sure why she was bringing Matt back to her place so soon after meeting him, but to her, it just felt right.

Dakota let out a deep breath as she slowly gyrated her pelvis against his. She was on top, and her eyes were closed. She then lowered her neck and kissed him as they finished. She then rolled her naked body off of his and turned to face the ceiling. They both took a couple moments to catch their breath.

"Gonna be honest," she said. "Never thought I'd be screwing a blind guy."

"At some point or another, we all do things we never thought we would do."

Dakota raised an eyebrow and looked at Matt.

"Jesus Christ, you gotta say such profound sounding shit all the time?"

"Hey. Watch your language."

"Excuse me?!"

Matt smirked.

"I'm a Catholic."

Dakota chuckled and punched Matt in the shoulder. Matt laughed along with her.

"You piece of shit," she said.

A second later, Dakota's phone started buzzing. She groaned as she reached out with her arm, not wanting to get off the bed. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and pressed it against her ear.

"Hello?"

"North," said Brett. "Got something. Something bad."

"What is it?"

"We found another body. And she's also crying blood."


	7. Shark Tank

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 7: Shark Tank

"Stacy?!"

"Yes," said Matt. "The latest victim has been confirmed as Stacy Krisman."

Jacob put his left hand on his face and shook his head. His right hand was handcuffed to the table. Matt and Foggy both frowned as they allowed him to take a few moments to himself. Karen looked to the side with a somber face, but stayed silent. Jacob's eyes watered as he looked back up at his lawyers.

"What happens now?"

"Well," said Foggy, "given the evidence at her disposal, and the fact that you have an explicit connection to both victims, the Assistant District Attorney assigned to the case has decided to prosecute for both counts of murder."

Jacob looked devastated. Consumed by grief, he was silent for a couple minutes. After wiping the tears away, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

"I've lost two friends. And the world wants to punish me for it."

"This isn't the end, Mister Griffin," said Matt. "We're going to go to trial, we're going to plead not guilty, and we're going to fight this."

"Will we win?"

Matt paused. Foggy and Karen glanced at each other. Jacob gulped. The tension seemed to stifle all of the oxygen in the air.

"Mister Griffin . . . ."

"Will we win?"

Matt could sense the fear emanating from Jacob. He knew that the man sitting in front of him was innocent, but he honestly did not know how he was going to prove it.

"We're going to do everything we can," said Matt. "I promise."

* * *

"We're gonna get wrecked."

Foggy threw up his hands as he and Matt walked down the street towards the New York State Supreme Court Building. Karen was walking behind them, with a large purse that contained all of the files and documents they were going to need in court.

"We're going to be fine," said Matt.

"Are you kidding?! We're going up against Rachel Dreyfuss! Rachel Freakin' Dreyfuss, man! She isn't just any shark, Matt! She is like, the Megalodon of New York! She makes the shark from _Jaws_ look like the shark from _Finding Nemo_!"

"Maybe movies aren't the best metaphor to use with me, Foggy."

Karen raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't she running for something or . . . ."

Karen then looked out at the street as a bus passed the group. The bus had a campaign advertisement for Rachel Dreyfuss attached to its side. The advertisement showed an image of Rachel standing with her arms folded, her face both stern and intense.

 _RACHEL DREYFUSS for MANHATTAN DISTRICT ATTORNEY_

 _Safety for citizens. Not for criminals._

Karen pointed at the bus.

"Hey, that's her!"

"Yeah, that's one of her campaign ads," said Foggy, before glancing back at Matt. "She's sorta looking upward, like diagonally, you know? She looks like a dictator or something. All she needs are a few bombers flying overhead."

"She's just doing her job, same as we are."

"Oh, I know that much. I'm just saying that she probably considers eating people to be part of her job description."

The group reached the steps that led up to the courthouse. Foggy stopped after a couple steps and turned to face Matt.

"Matt, you gotta know why Rachel is pushing to prosecute. She's trying to do this so it'll look good right before elections. She's gonna come at us like we're sushi rolls."

"I know exactly why she's doing this. I also know that a high profile murder case wasn't exactly the starting point we had in mind. But this is what we have to do. We both passed the bar. We both belong in that courtroom. We have just as much the right to be there as Dreyfuss does."

Matt gently patted Foggy on the shoulder.

"And don't forget the blood spatter report. The position of the blood and of the laceration on Jennifer's neck is low enough that it might cast doubt on whether or not a man of Jacob's height committed the act. We're not letting Rachel get away with throwing Jacob under the bus for her own gain, and we're going to do it together. No Murdock without Nelson."

Foggy exhaled.

"No Nelson without Murdock."

"And me," said Karen, smiling.

Foggy nodded at Karen before looking back at Matt.

"Alright. Lead on, Macduff."

"It's lay on," said Karen.

"What?"

Karen shrugged.

"Forget it."

The group proceeded to walk up the stairs. As they did, Matt's senses were drawn to a particular female voice that was speaking at the top of the staircase. He did not recognize the voice, but for some reason he couldn't help but feel that the voice was exactly the one he was supposed to focus on at that specific moment.

"Officer. I certainly hope you have some good news for me."

The next voice was male, and it was coming through the woman's cell phone. While the voice would have been, by design, too faint for anyone else to hear, Matt's superhuman senses allowed him to hear it clearly enough to understand.

"All good news, Mrs. Dreyfuss. The job's done."

"Excellent," said Rachel. "And you followed all of the directions I gave you?"

"Every one," said the man. "Everything's all in order. Or out of order, as it were, heh heh."

"Good. I'll have Sarah contact you later tonight to deal with payment. I have to get to court. I'll talk to you later."

Rachel hung up the phone and placed it in her purse. Sarah was standing next to her, holding a document in one hand and a legal briefcase in the other. Matt, Foggy and Karen reached the top of the stairs, and Rachel looked over at them. Matt could instantly tell that he was the focus of her glare, and a shiver crawled down his spine.

"Nelson and Murdock."

Matt and Foggy stopped as Rachel approached them. While they kept straight faces, Karen narrowed her eyes. Rachel put on a smug smile as she looked at each member of the group in turn.

"I understand that we will be meeting on opposite sides of the Jacob Griffin case."

"That's correct," said Matt.

"Quite a trial by fire for your first case in private practice. I certainly hope there won't be any . . . . hard feelings."

"I suppose we'll see once we're inside," said Foggy.

"Yes," replied Rachel. "I suppose we will."

Rachel then turned away and walked into the courthouse, with Sarah following after her. Karen shook her head.

"We sure she wasn't the one who murdered those girls?" she asked. "I got the creeps just from looking at her."

"Not gonna lie," said Foggy. "I wouldn't be shocked."

As the group was about to enter the court house, a familiar voice called out.

"Matt?"

Matt cleared his throat as he turned around to face Dakota, who was heading up the stairs towards him.

"Dakota."

"Another friend?" asked Karen.

"Can't be," said Foggy. "I'm his only friend."

"What are you doing here?" asked Dakota.

"I'm working," answered Matt. "My firm is acting as the defense for Jacob Griffin. These are my associates, Foggy Nelson and Karen Page. Guys, this is Officer Dakota North. She's uh . . . . a recent acquaintance."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," said Dakota. "You're on the defense? You're a lawyer? And you're assigned to the Griffin case?"

Matt nodded.

"You didn't tell me any of that."

"You never asked."

"Okay, guess that's fair. Just surprised to see you here."

Foggy shrugged.

"Well, if you're sticking around for the trial, you're gonna see a lot more of him."

"Rachel Dreyfuss show up yet?" asked Dakota.

"Yeah," said Karen, grimacing. "Only saw her for thirty seconds and I already know she's a meat grinder."

"Meat grinder is right," said Dakota. "She's out for some serious blood. You guys are gonna want to watch yourselves."

Dakota frowned as she looked straight at Matt. She then sighed before reaching forward and kissing him on the cheek. Foggy and Karen glanced at each other.

"Good luck," said Dakota.

"Have a little faith," said Matt, smirking.

* * *

"Court is now in session, with the Honourable Judge Finn Lewis presiding. The case is The People versus Jacob Griffin."

Jacob clicked his feet together. Karen noticed this gesture of anxiety and gave him a compassionate look. He gulped in return as everyone was instructed to sit down by Judge Lewis, who proceeded to give his standard instructions to the jury. Foggy looked over at the prosecution's table, where Rachel was sitting with a posture of absolute confidence as Sarah hurriedly organized all of their documents.

"Mrs. Dreyfuss," said Lewis. "Is the prosecution ready to deliver its opening statement?"

"Indeed I am."

Rachel stood up and walked around her table. Her stride was slow and calculated, with the sound of each step lingering in the minds of the people in the room. She sauntered up to the front of the jury and scanned her eyes across the twelve men and women before her. She took several seconds of silence before she started, ensuring that everyone in the room was giving her their full attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury."

Rachel started to slowly pace side to side in front of the jury.

"Today is an important day for all of us. Everyone here in this courtroom. It's important, because today is the day that a murderer with no respect for the sanctity of the law will be brought to justice. Two women have been killed by the defendant that you see before you today. Two women who considered themselves his friends. Two women who trusted him, and had that trust betrayed in the most violent of manners."

Matt listened to the various hearts in the room as Rachel delivered her statement. He could make out Dakota's heartbeat from her seat in the main viewing area.

"Jennifer Leigh and Stacy Krisman were both known friends of the defendant. Both victims were found in their apartments, killed by someone who they trusted to let inside. Both victims were found with a custom-made toxicant in their bloodstream, something that could only be created by a professional chemist, which the defendant happens to be."

Jacob looked down, fighting back his inclination to cry.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today you are the arm of the law. No longer will this murderer hide in the shadows, waiting to strike at his next, helpless victim. Your verdict, your judgement, will be what drags him and the heinous nature of his crimes into the light. And at the end of this process, when you pronounce him guilty, you will know that you stopped him from inflicting such horrible violence on anyone else in this city. That process begins today. Thank you."

Rachel returned to her table, leaving most of the people in the room seemingly spellbound. Foggy wiped a couple drops of sweat off of his right temple. Matt, meanwhile, kept a straight face the entire time. Lewis then turned his gaze to the defense table.

"Is the defense ready to proceed with their opening statement?"

Foggy and Karen both looked at Matt with worry on their faces, but Matt was unfazed. He stood up with confidence and held his cane with both hands.

"Yes, your Honour."

Lewis nodded as Matt walked to the front of the jury. Rachel folded her arms as she carefully watched the body language of her opponent. Matt cleared his throat and took a few seconds just to breathe and tune himself in to his own heartbeat. He was not focusing on anyone else but himself, and once his mind was clear, he was finally ready.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I want you to consider a hypothetical situation for a moment. Imagine that you have developed a true emotional bond with someone. A lover, a friend, a family member, whatever you prefer. All that matters is that this person is important to you. And then suddenly, that person is violently murdered and taken away, never again to be in your life."

Karen and Foggy both started to breathe faster.

"But your pain doesn't end there. Not only is this person gone forever, but before you even have time to grieve, a police officer arrives at your house and says . . . . you. You're the person who committed the crime. You killed your loved one. You have your life pulled right out from under you, and you don't even get the chance to pick up the pieces because the law has decided that you deserve the punishment for your pain. That is exactly what has just happened to my client."

Rachel sneered. Jacob's heart sank.

"But the law is clear, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. The prosecution must prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt, and they must use facts to accomplish that. Their evidence is circumstantial, rushed and incomplete, all things that justice has no right to be. My client, Jacob Griffin, is not guilty, and justice will only be served once you pronounce him so. Thank you."

Matt returned to the defense table, and both Foggy and Karen gave him reassuring nods. Lewis then looked back at Rachel. Sarah slipped a piece of paper in front of Rachel, causing Matt to raise an eyebrow. Rachel flipped the paper over and smirked as she saw what was written inside.

"Is the prosecution ready to call its first witness?" asked Lewis.

"Your Honour," said Rachel, standing up. "There is an urgent matter that needs to be addressed before the prosecution can proceed with calling witnesses."

Jacob looked over at Karen with worry.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

"I don't know," answered Karen. "Don't worry. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"And what urgent matter is that?" asked Lewis.

"My assistant was looking through the case files and evidence reports and appears to have discovered an anomaly with one of pieces of evidence that has been entered for consideration. This anomaly was not detected during the initial evidence motions. However, given the nature of the anomaly, I have no choice but to bring it your attention."

Matt immediately stood up.

"Objection, your Honour. All evidence was cleared by both the prosecution and the defense."

"Overruled," said Lewis. "If you have something to bring to our attention, Mrs. Dreyfuss, now is the time. But this had better be important."

"It is, your Honour. According to my assistant's findings, there is an issue with the chain of custody regarding the blood spatter report. The logs between when the evidence was accessed by the chief forensic technician and the court's evidence clerk are missing."

Foggy tugged at his collar. Karen widened her eyes. Matt furrowed his brow, and listened to Rachel's heartbeat. She was lying through her teeth. Suddenly, the conversation that he overheard on the phone made sense.

"Given the nature of this anomaly and the fact that there is the potential for the evidence to be contaminated or doctored, I am motioning for the blood spatter report to be rendered inadmissible."

"Show me," said Lewis.

Sarah handed Rachel a file folder. Rachel placed the piece of paper into it, along with several other documents. She then carried the file folder up to the judge's podium and laid it down in front of him. He took a couple minutes to look it over, before calling out one of the other officers. As this was happening, Foggy frantically looked through their updated case files.

"Is she serious?" asked Karen.

Foggy gulped as he looked at the evidence package.

"The evidence collection wasn't totally finished," he said. "We only have documents up to when the blood report was with the chief technician. Shit."

Karen shook her head.

"Somebody has to have some record!"

A couple moments later, after looking over a report handed to him by one of the officers, Lewis cleared his throat.

"After looking over multiple copies of the evidence documents, I must concur with the prosecution's assessment. The chain of custody on the blood spatter report has been broken. In the interest of the court, I must deem the evidence inadmissible."

Rachel nodded before shooting Matt a sly smile. Karen reached out and placed her hand on Jacob's, trying to console him. Foggy anxiously rubbed his hands together. Dakota put one of her hands over her face. Matt exhaled and sat back down before taking off his glasses.

The trial had barely begun, and already Rachel was tearing their case out from under them.


	8. Double Life

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 8: Double Life

"I think he needs another one."

Matt waved his hand.

"No, no, it's okay."

Dakota looked back up at the waiter.

"He needs another one. One for me too. I'm buying."

Matt shrugged in response, knowing that he actually did want another one. The waiter nodded at Dakota before walking away. Less than a minute later, she returned with another set of whiskey shots. Dakota picked hers up and waited for Matt to follow suit. He blinked as he considered the shot glass before him. Letting out a heavy sigh, he then wrapped his fingers around it and held it up.

Dakota smiled.

"That's my boy."

Matt and Dakota both downed their shots and slammed the glasses back down on the table. He coughed and rubbed his forehead. Dakota gestured at the waiter as she walked past. She then placed both of her elbows on the table and put one hand over the other.

"Hey. Listen to me. The trial's only beginning. Your opening statement was great. Just gotta shake off the shit and tomorrow, you'll be right back in the game."

"Shake off the shit?"

"Yeah. Booze helps with that. Come on, I'm trying to help you feel better."

Matt smirked.

"Definitely made me feel better after our last date."

"Slow down, Murdock. Might need to wait a couple more hours for that."

Matt and Dakota shared a weak chuckle.

"I appreciate you saying those things," said Matt. "I really do. You know, you work so hard trying to get there. Years of study, years of work. Hoping to get to the point where you can finally do what you feel you were supposed to do. Then you get there, and it's not what you thought, you know?"

Dakota sullenly nodded as Matt spoke.

"My first case in trial, and the prosecutor, another proponent of the system of justice, the system I wanted to be a part of, what I wanted to stand for . . . . turns out to be anything but. And the worst part is that she's completely confident she can get away with it. I can't prove she tampered with the chain of custody, but I know . . . . I know she did. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"The advice that immediately comes to my mind is to kick her ass, but I guess that's not really the lawyer way to do things, is it?"

They chuckled again, more genuinely this time. The waiter dropped off another set of shots.

"I think that's more your line of duty," said Matt.

"Oh, I'd kick her ass if I could get away with it and keep my job. I knew from day one she was doing this just for the politics. Whatever looks good for the voters, right? But she has that kind of pull. She's deep with one of the Senators, I know she pays off some of the cops . . . . anything to get ahead. That's always been Rachel Dreyfuss."

Dakota rapped her knuckles on the table a couple times.

"I can't stand people like that. People who . . . . who claim to be one thing but are actually something else. If you're gonna be a bastard, at least be goddamn honest about it."

Dakota downed her next shot. Matt tilted his head slightly.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"I said I knew her, didn't I?"

"Forgive me if I'm prying, but I get the feeling that last remark wasn't about Dreyfuss."

"Heh . . . ."

Dakota tapped the end of her left index finger against the table.

"Real perceptive."

"Part of the job."

"Yeah," said Dakota, her voice suddenly hollow. "You remember when I mentioned my brother, Ricky?"

Matt nodded.

"I didn't tell you the whole truth, though that one's obvious, I guess. Ricky's a couple years older than me. Always was there to, you know, do brother stuff. Make fun of me, sure, but . . . . also take care of me. The way a brother's supposed to."  
Matt listened to Dakota's heartbeat as she told her story. He was not doing it to check if she was lying, but rather to feel her emotions more clearly.

"After Dad died, Mom struggled. A lot. I was about to head to the academy, right out of high school. Ricky . . . . he was in college. Wanted to be an engineer. But, money was tight. Mom was in grief. We didn't know what to do."

Dakota wiped her eyes as she continued.

"Then Ricky says that he picked up an extra job. Says that he was gonna start working nights. Mom told him he didn't have to, but . . . . she was in no position to argue. He said he would take care of us. Make things right."

Dakota gulped.

"I know he was just trying to help. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Whenever I asked him about his job, he would get evasive. Sometimes even angry. Eventually, I just let it go."  
Dakota closed her eyes and held her hands together.

"Couple months after I graduated from the academy, I got a call about a potential disturbance in a motel. Somebody screaming, swearing, maybe some violence. Me and my Sarge, we went there, and uh, we knocked on the door."

Dakota's heartbeat quickened.

"We heard someone yell out. We knew they were in trouble. So Sarge kicked the door down."

Dakota let tears fall from her eyes as she opened them.

"I pulled out my gun . . . . and I pointed it at Ricky."  
Dakota stared at Matt's eyes, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

"It was him," she said. "He was there, with another man. The man had bruises on his face and his arms. He said . . . . he said that Ricky was there to, to . . . . to rough him up. He was an enforcer for a loan shark. That was the day I had to arrest my own brother."

Matt blinked and lowered his head slightly as Dakota took a couple seconds to breathe. He then reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. She warmly smiled at the gesture.

"I know he didn't want to do anything wrong. I know . . . . I know he was just trying to help us. But it wasn't worth it. That moment when I put the handcuffs on him, the look in his eyes . . . . just emptiness. Shame. He was living a double life, and it all came crashing down on us. Talk about a great start to my career in law enforcement."

Matt squeezed on Dakota's hand.

"It wasn't your fault," he said.

"Never said it was," she replied. "Doesn't change how much it hurt. How much it changed me, my perspective. Got me to see the world for how it is, not how I want it to be. It broke Mom, and now she's just wasting away in her apartment collecting government checks. Ricky was convicted of over a dozen charges of assault. He's still in prison. And here I am, the only North left who's actually making something of herself."

Dakota cleared her throat.

"I don't, I don't know why I'm telling you all this. We've only been seeing each other for a short time. But somehow, somehow . . . . somehow I feel like it's something I needed to say to you. So that you understand."

"I understand."

A short time later, Matt and Dakota left the bar and stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was raining out, but at that moment, neither person cared. Once they were off to the side of the entrance, they turned to each other. Dakota slowed her breathing as she looked at Matt, who allowed the raindrops that struck her face to give him a pristine view of her.

He could sense all of the emotions she conveyed with the lines of her face. He then reached forward with his right hand and gently pressed a couple fingers against the side of her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned her face towards his hand. He then slowly moved forward before pressing his lips against hers.

For a few precious seconds, Matt and Dakota kissed, and everything in their world was fine.

"You know," said Dakota, as she pulled away. "You could come back to my place again. Stay over, if you want."

Matt considered her offer for a moment, but then all of the sounds of the city started to filter into his ears. Within only a couple seconds, he knew that this was a night that his city needed him.

"I . . . ."

Dakota looked at him with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

"I can't tonight, as much as I want to. I'm, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's alright."

She then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Matt."

"Goodnight."

Matt clutched the top of his cane as Dakota looked down and walked past him. He stayed still, his face pointed towards the sidewalk. She took a dozen steps away from him before looking over her shoulder. He did not turn to her, nor did he seem to notice her passing glance. She frowned for a few moments before turning and walking away.

Not too long afterwards, Matt was once again in his costume, free-running through the city he called home. Every alley was a potential pathway; each building was a challenge to be overcome. As he allowed his body's actions to become virtually automatic, he focused in on his hearing, taking in all of the sounds and voices around him.

A man growing increasingly agitated as he tried to hail a taxi. A woman in a motel room who was making her price clear to a potential client. The sound of a helicopter flying in the distance. The crash of a waiter in a restaurant dropping a glass on the floor. The tapping of a woman's high heels on the pavement leading into an alley.

Matt stopped on the brick railing of a building as he honed in on the high heels. Sniffing the air, he found that he recognized a particular perfume. He was not sure yet, but he had to know. Making his way towards the alley, he lowered himself onto a nearby fire escape and crouched. He listened as the woman approached a man who had his back pressed against the wall.

The man coughed as he moved his cigarette away from his mouth.

"Page."

Matt couldn't believe it.

"You got it?" asked Karen.

"Nice to see ya again, babe," said the man. "Been wonderin' where you ran off to. Haven't heard from you for a while."

"Cut the shit, Blackie. Do you have it or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Relax. Was just makin' some conversation. No need to get all rattled."

"I don't come to you for conversation."

Blackie chuckled.

"Maybe you should sometime."

Blackie then reached into his coat pocket. As this was happening, Matt heard the sound of three more sets of footsteps approaching from the other end of the alley. All male. Early to mid-thirties. Somewhat lean builds. Two of them had hoods over their heads. Walking slowly. Confidence, not trepidation. One of them was clutching a knife in his pocket.

"Look who it is, fellas!" said the man with the knife. "Blackie Gaxton. Yo Blackie!"

Karen and Blackie both turned to face the group of men approaching them. Blackie cleared his throat, and Karen took a step back.

"H-Hey, hey guys," said Blackie. "W-What's goin' on?"

"No games. It's payday."

One of the other men picked up a piece of a broken metal pipe from the ground. Blackie held his breath as the man tapped the end of the pipe a couple times against the nearby brick wall. Karen placed one of her hands on the zipper of her purse. Matt could sense that the heartbeats of everyone present were quickening.

"Guys, guys," said Blackie. "B-Business has been k-kinda slow, okay? Okay? But I was about to make a sale! It's okay! G-Gimme just one more . . . ."

"No excuses! You pay on payday, one way or the other."

The man pulled out his knife and pointed it at Karen.

"You say you were about to make a sale? Then she pays."

The man with the pipe grinned.

"We take cash . . . . or credit. Heh, heh."

"Screw you, Blackie," said Karen. "You're on your own!"

Karen quickly turned around and started running back the way she came.

"Hey!" yelled Blackie.

The third man, who had not yet spoken, pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Karen. She heard him cock the gun and immediately stopped in her tracks.

"Nobody leaves until we get paid, pretty lady."

By this point, Matt was ready. He leaped downward with his batons held above his head. The man with the gun did not even get the chance to turn towards him before Matt bashed him over the head with both batons, knocking the pistol out of his hands.

"What the . . . ."

Matt interrupted the man with the knife with a roundhouse kick to the face. Blackie leaped back in surprise and fell to the floor.

"Holy shit!"

The man with the pipe swung his weapon vertically at Matt, striking him in the back. Matt groaned before throwing his elbow back, hitting the man in the chest. The man who had the gun recovered and got back up, seizing Matt by the throat. This gave his friend a chance to wildly beat Matt with the pipe.

After several strikes, Matt kicked out with one leg, hitting his opponent in the knee. He then heaved forward with all of his strength, throwing his other foe over him. His batons ready, Matt deflected another pipe swing before bashing the man across the jaw. Blackie ran away from the scuffle, and after a few more seconds, both thugs were unconscious.

Matt was so focused on the fight that he had momentarily forgotten about the third man, the one who had the knife.

"Daredevil!"

Matt sneered as he turned to face the third man, who was holding Karen from behind. He had his knife close to her throat.

"Yeah, that's what they call you, right? Well screw you, man! You hurt my boys, so now this bitch? I'm gonna cut her throat wide open unless you back off!"

Matt assessed the situation. He was too far away to take down the thug without risking Karen's life. The man's perspiration and heartbeat indicated that he was desperate, likely because he was now alone. He wasn't lying about his threat. Karen was staring directly at Matt, not knowing that she was looking at someone she knew. Her breathing pattern indicated that she was trying to stay calm despite the severity of her situation.

Matt took a single, slow step forward, and the man clutched the knife tighter.

"I'm not screwin' around, man! I'll do it!"

Karen started reaching down into her purse. The zipper was open. Noticing what she was doing, Matt then decided on his course of action.

"You saw how fast I took down your friends. You kill her, and there's nothing stopping me from doing worse to you."

"Yeah, bullshit! I heard the stories! Word's spreadin' around, man! You've beaten up a lot of crooks 'round town, but you ain't never killed nobody!"

Karen's hand was now in her purse.

"Maybe tonight's the night I change that."

The man loosened his grip on Karen as he started to shout.

"Just back off!"

Seizing her chance, Karen pulled her own knife out of her purse and jammed it into the man's shoulder. He screamed in surprise and let go of her. Matt sprinted forward and landed a single, powerful punch straight to his jaw, rendering him instantly unconscious. Matt and Karen both took a couple moments just to breathe.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," said Karen. "Yeah."

"Get out of here. Go home. Don't come back."

Karen shook her head and turned away, walking back out to the street. Matt stayed still for a while longer, going over what had just transpired. He hadn't even noticed that the cloaked figure had been watching the entire altercation from the roof of one of the nearby buildings.


	9. Room 101

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 9: Room 101

 _"One, two, three, four . . . ."_

The door was at the end of the hall. The walls were charred, covered in black. The wallpaper was peeling, and the floorboards were half-rotted. The air was stifled with ash. The door had cracks and scratches all over the wood, but it was not broken. The golden knob was dirty, but relatively intact. The only thing that was clean was the number plate.

 _"Never open up the door . . . ."_

The plate identified it as room 101.

 _"Five, six, seven, eight . . . ."_

He stared at the door, knowing what was on the other side.

 _"Never ever be afraid . . . ."_

* * *

Karen groaned to herself as she scraped her fingernails across her scalp. She had only gotten out of a life or death situation a few minutes ago, and her thoughts were scattered all over the place. She was stunned that she had seen Daredevil in person. She was relieved that she thought to start carrying a knife in her purse.

She was agitated that she didn't get what she needed from Blackie.

Breathing in and out several times, Karen quickly found that she could not calm herself down. Her skin felt like it was peeling itself off, and her throat felt like it was being melted by scalding liquid. She grasped at her head and squeezed on her skull with both hands, but she already knew that nothing she could do would relieve the pressure.

"Goddammit."

Karen stopped and pressed her body against the nearby wall, which was part of a condemned building. She suddenly and violently started puking, throwing up her dinner all over the sidewalk. Coughing as she gargled on what remained of her own bile, she then spit out all of the liquid left in her mouth.

"Ugh . . . ."

She closed her eyes and took a couple minutes to try and focus on recovering. All of her senses felt like they were overloading. By drowning out her thoughts and keeping her mind on her breathing, she was finally able to feel some relief from all of the pain. Her stomach was still churning and she still felt a burning in her throat, but at least it was progress.

Clutching her abdomen, Karen then continued walking down the sidewalk. As she passed the building's entrance, the figure leaped out from the shadows and seized her around the throat.

* * *

 _"Kate?"_

Blood ran down the steps.

 _"Where are you?"_

He knew where she was. He just didn't want to believe it. He stepped in her blood, heading up the stairs that led to the hallway. The entire floor was covered in blood, high enough that it almost reached his ankles. He waded through the red fluid, going for the door. He knew he wasn't supposed to open it, but he had to know.

 _"Kate?"_

He reached for the doorknob.

* * *

"Ergh . . . ."

Karen coughed as she trudged back into consciousness. She exhaled and slowly let her eyes open. A lone, dim light bulb hung above her, providing so little illumination that she could barely see the edges of the room. The room's windows were boarded up. Blinking a couple times and swallowing some saliva to try and massage her dry throat, she then realized something perturbing.

She was strapped to a chair.

Karen tried to move her arms, but they were fastened by a thick cable, which wrapped around both arms several times. Another cable tied her feet to the chair's front legs. She yelled as she struggled to move all of her limbs at once. After a minute, she understood that she was not going anywhere without help.

Then, she heard a voice coming from inside the room.

"Karen."

The voice was deep and modulated.

"Who's there?"

The figure stepped out of the corner and into the light. He was wearing a grey cloak over a black bodysuit, with a metal mask over his face that resembled a skull. His right hand was placed inside of a gauntlet that had a scythe blade. He stared at her in silence for several seconds, and she scowled back at him.

"How'd you know my name?"

The figure glanced to the side for a moment.

"I looked through your purse."

Silence.

"Just gonna stand there and stare?"

"Forgive me. I forgot myself. You look so much like her."

"Like who?"

Karen then shook her head.

"Forget it, I don't wanna know. You're that freak, aren't you? The one who really killed that nurse. What the hell do you want with me? Why'd you tie me to this fucking chair?!"

Silence.

"You sick bastard! Let me go!"

"Don't be afraid," he said. "Besides, no one can hear you here. And anyone who could . . . . doesn't care. You're not going anywhere. Not yet."

Karen pursed her lips and looked at the ground.

"You killed the other girls. Cut both their throats open. Why not do the same to me? Why kidnap me? Why keep me I alive?"

"Because I want him to see the importance of my work."

"What?"

The figure stepped forward, reaching out with his left hand. He moved as if he was going to touch Karen's face, but stopped himself only a few centimetres away. She cringed as she saw how close his hand was to her skin. Holding his hand in place for a few seconds, he then pulled it back.

"This world is one of emptiness and sorrow. No beauty. No art. There's so little in the world that's actually worth saving. But, amidst the filth and decay, there are small glimmers of hope. Beacons that show that there was beauty once. I want to give that back to the world. Daredevil, he . . . . he wants to bring an end to all of that. He doesn't understand what I'm trying to do."

"No one understands except for you, you goddamn psycho!"

The figure breathed heavier, but otherwise didn't respond to Karen's outburst. He just continued to stare at her.

"Stop staring at me!"

"You really are just like her. I always searched for women who were like her, who resembled her, but you? You could be her twin. And to think, that you were the one who Daredevil cares about, the one he saved with such . . . . conviction. Even your name is close. Close enough."

Karen licked her lips and furrowed her brow as she looked down. The figure then crouched so that he was once again in her line of sight.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Karen. "I don't even know Daredevil! Just, just let me go!"

"I can't do that. But, I want you to know that you will become the most beautiful art of all. The one I've been building towards. The one I've wanted to make all this time. My final tribute to her, to Kate. My masterpiece."

"Kate? Who the hell is Kate?"

"Kate. She was . . . . she was everything to me. She showed me that there could be art in the world. That there truly could be something beautiful. That we don't need to be drowned by nihilistic understandings of humanity and culture. She showed me that there are some things in this world worth cherishing."

Karen blinked a couple times as she considered the figure's words.

"What do you mean?"

The figure let out a deep sigh.

"Let me tell you a story. It's about a little boy who never met his mother. Who lived with his father for as long as he could remember, but dad never seemed to care for him all that much. They lived not quite in poverty, but nowhere near anything glamourous. Dad ignored the boy, because he was too busy with other things."

Karen gulped as she listened to the figure's story.

"The boy would wonder . . . . whatever happened to his mother? Why was she never around? It was a question that tore into his mind, and it never left. Since he knew that his father would never answer that question, the boy spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like to actually have a mother, the way the other children did."

The figure lowered his gaze slightly, as he was drawn further into his own tale.

"Then something changed. Someone new entered his life. One day, dad came home, and he brought a woman with him. A woman named Kate. And for the first time ever, the boy's question was finally answered. Kate took an instant liking to him, and told him that even though she was only his stepmother, that she wanted to be there for him. No matter what."

Karen felt the tension in her muscles fade away.

"And for a short time, the boy was finally happy. He finally knew that everything was going to be just fine. Even when dad would get into his moods, Kate would hold the boy close to her chest and tell him not to be afraid, because she was there to take care of him. And then, one day . . . . he found her in the room he had always been afraid of. The room that would change his view of the world forever. He wanted to find his mother. Instead, he found her corpse."

Karen felt her blood chill inside her veins.

"Her neck had been sliced. But that wasn't what caught his attention. Instead, he was drawn to her eyes. Those cold, empty, dead eyes . . . . more beautiful than they had ever been. They were bleeding. Her final tears were formed of her own blood."

Karen's breathing started quickening as she thought about the images she had seen of the corpses of Jennifer Leigh and Stacy Krisman.

"That was when I knew what true potential was. True beauty. Art the likes of which the world had never seen. No longer was she part of this world, filled with nothing but misery and pain. She had ascended from all of that, and had achieved her true potential. She deserved nothing less, and so do all the other women I've released."

The figure stood back up.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. But don't worry. This game will come to a close soon enough."

"Daredevil. You're gonna lure him here, aren't you?"

"Yes. He doesn't know. He hasn't seen . . . . what I've seen. But he will. He'll see the value of my work, and maybe then, he'll understand what he is."

Karen scoffed.

"And you know?"

"He's a man shrouded in darkness. Just like me."

The figure turned away and walked towards the door. He pulled it open, and Karen could faintly see a burned hallway through the doorway. The figure then looked over his shoulder at his captive.

"Welcome to Room 101. This was the room where I was born. The room where my beloved Kate became my first piece of art."

He then stepped out of the room and looked at her, with his hand still on the doorknob.

"Don't be afraid."

* * *

 _"Kate?"_

She placed her hand on his head. She then started gently rubbing his back.

 _"It's okay, honey. I'm here."_

He sighed with relief as he pulled the knife out of his pocket.

 _"Don't be afraid."_


	10. Paging Karen

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 10: Paging Karen

"Maybe she's getting us donuts. I could sure use a donut right now."

"I don't think she's getting us donuts, Foggy."

Foggy huffed and threw up his hands.

"I'm trying to be an optimist, Matt! But, as always, you gotta go and bring me back down! I thought Catholics were supposed to be all about hope. What hope is there without donuts?"

Matt sighed as he and Foggy waited just outside of Jacob's holding cell in the courthouse. Foggy checked his watch again, even though he had checked it less than a minute ago.

"She say anything to you last night?" asked Foggy. "About going out, or I dunno, getting lost?"

"Foggy, I was here with you when we last saw her," answered Matt, even though he knew he was lying. "I haven't spoken to her since. I don't know where she would be."

"Maybe she didn't like being an unpaid intern."

"She's not an unpaid intern."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Foggy scratched the side of his head.

"Eh. Maybe she'll catch up. She knows she was supposed to be here. Probably not worth getting worried too much about it. She might just be hungover or something. Come on, we gotta talk to Jacob."

Matt nodded and followed Foggy into the room. Jacob was sitting at the table, waiting for them. Both attorneys sat across from their client, and they placed their files on the table.

"Where's Karen?" asked Jacob.

"She should be joining us shortly," said Matt. "We want to go over some things with you before we proceed with the next stage of the trial."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you need."

Foggy pushed a handful of photographs in front of Jacob, who started looking them over.

"These are some of the evidence photographs from the apartments of both victims," said Foggy. "We want you to look them over for any points of comparison. Maybe point out anything we might have missed. Try to think of any information, anything at all that we can use that might help with our case strategy."

Jacob blinked and narrowed his eyes as he looked at one of the photographs.

"Hang on . . . ."

"Is there something you see?" asked Matt.

Jacob grabbed a photograph of Jennifer's bedroom with both hands.

"This isn't right."

Foggy glanced at Matt for a moment before looking forward again.

"What's not right?"

"This is Jennifer's room," said Jacob, shaking his head. "But something's wrong. Someone else must have been there."

Matt put his hands together.

"How do you know that?"

Jacob put the photograph back on the table and turned it around, pointing it at Foggy. He then placed one of his index fingers down just above the bed.

"Her bed is perfectly made."

Foggy pursed his lips.

"I don't see how . . . ."

"Guys, I dated Jennifer for almost a whole year. I knew her better than most. And one thing about Jenny? Girl never made her bed. Ever. Not even once."

Matt tilted his head slightly to the side as he considered Jacob's words.

"Someone else was in her apartment that night," said Matt. "You're saying that whoever did this, whoever killed her . . . . made her bed?"

Jacob shrugged.

"Can't say for sure, but I know she sure as hell didn't do it. Unless . . . ."

"Unless what?" asked Foggy.

Jacob looked down and started shuffling through the pictures again. He then found one of Stacy's bedroom, which also had a perfectly made bed.

"Stacy's bed . . . ."

"Is there some connection?" asked Matt.

"The night she died, Jenny mentioned at the party that she had ordered a new mattress. It's uh, from a store called Mack's Mattresses, and it's just next door to the place I work at. She said her mattress came in earlier that day. I don't remember all the details, but I thought I heard Stacy asking about it, cause she was looking for a new mattress too."

"Wait a minute," said Foggy, his eyes lighting up. "I remember something about that."

Foggy started rifling through another one of the case files. He pulled out an evidence report and quickly looked it over.

"Here. Records for a mattress purchase were found in Stacy Krisman's apartment. Looks like . . . . yeah, it was delivered the same day she died."

Foggy blinked as he placed the files on the desk.

"Holy crap," he said. "Both victims, on the day they died, received mattresses from the same place? What kind of coincidence is that?"

"Maybe it sounds crazy," said Jacob. "But I think there's gotta be some connection."

Matt sighed.

"Maybe, but it doesn't prove any . . . ."

Matt was interrupted by the sound of his cellphone vibrating in his pocket. He grumbled under his breath as he grabbed the phone.

"Might be Karen," he said.

Matt stood up and placed the phone next to his ear.

"Matt Murdock."

"Mister Murdock."

Matt had to stop himself from gasping when he recognized the voice of the figure. He would never forget the deep and modulated tone of the man who nearly killed him. He slowly turned back towards Foggy, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"Gimme a moment," said Matt.

Matt then left the room and walked around a corner before he resumed the conversation.

"Who is this?" asked Matt, knowing that he could not let the figure know that he actually recognized his voice.

"Oh, I think you know, especially given the fact that you're serving as a defense attorney on the Jacob Griffin case. How is that proceeding, anyhow?"

"You. You're the killer."

"I thought a lawyer would know to only make accusations when he is certain he can prove them in court."

"How did you get this number? What do you want?"

The figure chuckled. Matt shivered in response.

"I got this number off of a business card. I found it in Karen Page's purse."

Matt's heart nearly stopped.

"Surprised, are you?" asked the figure. "Weren't you wondering why she didn't show up for work this morning?"

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

A second later, he could hear Karen panting in the background.

"Talk."

"Matt?! Matt, oh God, please, try to . . . .!"

"Karen?! Karen!"

"That's more than enough, I think," said the figure, with Karen's voice suddenly going silent. "Now that we all know the stakes . . . ."

"You listen to me, you son of a bitch," said Matt, as he started to pace back and forth. "If I find you, I swear to God, I will . . . ."

"What will you do? You're no hero. You're just a lawyer from Hell's Kitchen who probably won't even win his first case. Completely unremarkable. No, I'm calling you, Mister Murdock, because I suspect that you could get in touch with someone far more remarkable than yourself."

Matt scoffed.

"And who would that be?"

"Daredevil."

Matt cleared his throat.

"Daredevil? W-Why, why would I know Daredevil?"

"Last night, Karen Page was saved by Daredevil. I watched the entire incident, the same way I've watched him before. The way he moved and fought was different. He was more savage, more passionate. Clearly, he cares about Miss Page in some way. She denies it, of course, but I think he knows her personally, which means that there's a chance that you know him as well."

Matt tugged his collar.

"If I'm mistaken, I'll find him via some other means. But if you want there to be any chance of Miss Page getting out of this alive, you'll send Daredevil to meet me."

"And where are you?"

"Do you think I'm stupid? If I give you my location, you'll simply send the police. No. Tell Daredevil to go to the same place where we fought. The place where I bested him. There, he'll find instructions on where to find me. I suspect that his pride will ensure that he will attempt to take me down himself. And remember, Mister Murdock . . . . so long as you do as I say, and you do it fast, then you don't have to be afraid for Karen Page."

"You're gonna regret this."

"I don't think so. After all, we all do things for the women we care about, right?"

Matt sneered.

"Goodbye, Mister Murdock."

The line went dead. Matt fumed as he lowered the phone. He then shouted in anger before punching the wall with his free hand. As he ran his fingers through his hair, he heard the sound of another familiar voice behind him.

"Matt?"

Matt turned around. Dakota was walking towards him.

"Whoa, Matt, what's going on?"

"Dakota."

"Bad news?"

Matt shook his head.

"This really isn't the time."

"Look, whatever it is, I'll try my best to help you. Just talk to me."

"I can't . . . ."

"Can't what?"

Foggy stepped out into the hallway.

"What's this all about?" asked Foggy. "I heard you yelling."

"Guys, listen," said Matt. "I don't have time to explain everything. I don't even understand or even believe it all myself yet. But I have to go. Now."

"Go?" asked Foggy. "Where?"

"It's important, Foggy."

"More important than the trial? Matt, we have to be in court in a couple hours!"

"Just tell us what's going on," said Dakota.

"Foggy, you know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important. I know I need to be here, but I also need to be somewhere else. You might have to take on today by yourself. I know you can do it. You're a great lawyer. I can't explain this all right now, but I promise, I will. You're just gonna have to trust me."

"Matt, you know I trust you, but . . . . what's going on?"

"Matt," said Dakota, clearly agitated at being ignored. "If you're in trouble, just tell me. I'm a cop. I'm trained to deal with this stuff. I can help you with whatever this is."

"I'm so sorry," said Matt. "But you can't. I have to go."

Matt then started running down the hallway, heading for the front entrance. Dakota looked at him in shock.

"Matt?! MATT!"

"Didn't even take his cane," said Foggy.

After a couple seconds, Dakota started running after Matt. Bursting through the front doors of the court house, she saw that Matt had already bounded down the stairs and started running across the busy street.

"MATT!"

Matt continued to ignore her as he made it to the other side of the street, barely avoiding being run over by a taxi. The driver angrily sounded his horn. Dakota headed for the street, but stopped when she saw Matt run into an alley. Shaking her head in disbelief, she then started to go over several things in her mind.

His incredible hearing. The wound on his chest. His reflexes. His ability to seemingly navigate an environment without any aid. And now, rushing off without being willing to tell even his closest friends where he was going.

Furrowing her brow, Dakota then ran towards her squad car.


	11. What You Are in the Dark

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 11: What You Are in the Dark

Matt, now wearing his Daredevil costume, cringed as he pulled himself up to the roof of the building. He moved towards the hole in the ceiling that had been created when the figure had thrown him during their fight. Jumping down, he quickly found a miniature tape recorder on the floor. It was placed next to a small stain of Matt's blood that remained from the other night.

Picking up the recorder, Matt held it close to his ear and pressed the playback button.

"Hello, Daredevil. You know who this is. If you're listening to this, then you've received my invitation. I have Karen Page, and if you care about her even a fraction of how much I believe you do, then I know you won't hesitate to try and save her. I want you to know that I only targeted her because I believe this is the best way of helping you to understand the value of my work."

Matt scoffed as he continued to listen.

"Come to the condemned building on 48th Street. Karen and I will be waiting for you there. You don't have to worry. She'll be quite safe for now. Don't be afraid . . . . Daredevil."

The recording stopped. Matt yelled before he threw the recorder at the wall, causing it to shatter. He then jumped towards a pillar and bounced off of it. Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed at the edge of the hole in the ceiling and pulled himself back up to the roof.

* * *

"I really hope I'm wrong."

Dakota could not even believe the thoughts that were going through her mind at that moment. She was now driving through Hell's Kitchen, spending as much time as she could scanning the rooftops of the city. Part of her couldn't even fathom the hypothesis that she had come up with. Another part of her felt like it was the only possible explanation for Matt's behaviour.

No.

Of course it wasn't, but Dakota couldn't help but be drawn to the worst possible conclusion, regardless of the circumstances. As she got to a red light, she stopped and took a couple moments to breathe and collect her thoughts. She wasn't acting rationally. These things were coincidences. There was no way that her theory could turn out to be true.

Then Dakota saw Daredevil climbing up the side of a building in broad daylight.

She gasped as she watched him run on the roof of the sub shop where she and Matt had their lunch date. He then leaped into the air, performing an aerial somersault before landing on the next roof. The light turned green. Dakota hit the gas and raced down the street, hoping to keep Daredevil in her sights. She then watched as he jumped across an alleyway, holding his arms crossed in front of him.

Dakota gulped as Daredevil smashed through a set of wooden boards placed over a window of a condemned building. Steeling herself, Dakota pulled over on the side of the road. She was about to open the door when she stopped herself. She found herself paralysed by her own thoughts, wondering if she was really doing the right thing.

After a couple minutes of rumination, Dakota screamed and punched the steering wheel. She then tore her door open and grabbed her pistol. She ran towards the front of the building, ignoring the looks of various pedestrians. Once she was at the entrance, she took a moment to ready herself before kicking the door in.

* * *

Matt moved his head around as he tried to get his bearings. The condemned building had no working lights, as far as he could tell. He could hear multiple heartbeats coming from several levels of the structure, so he had no idea where the figure or Karen would be. He let out a couple deep breaths as he slowly walked forward, giving himself time to recover from the exertion of free-running across half of Hell's Kitchen to get here.

The floor he was on was utterly still. He could sense only a single heartbeat on this level, in one of the far corners of the building. As he took a step, Matt's foot gently grazed a pile of wood shards. The place was mired in filth and dirt, the walls rotting and the floorboards stained. Ash and dust choked the air, and the smell of decay quickly overwhelmed Matt's nose.

Matt stepped out of the room and out into the hallway. The building used to be an apartment complex, but was now nothing more than a rotting carcass. Matt was on the fourth floor, and he noticed that his breathing started to quicken as he crept forward. Taking in a deep breath, he allowed himself to relax for a moment before moving again.

Then, the figure's voice sounded through some sort of speaker system that Matt couldn't discover the source of.

"Welcome, Daredevil. I see that Mister Murdock delivered my message."

Matt moved his head side to side, hoping to ascertain exactly where the figure was.

"You should have left him out of this," said Matt. "You should have left Karen Page out of this. If you want to fight me, then fight me."

"But I don't want to fight you, vigilante. You think this is about good and evil. About justice, and what's right. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. This is about understanding. About art. About beauty."

Matt grumbled as he walked towards a set of stairs.

"Huh. I just realized . . . . I don't even have a name for you. You call me Daredevil, so what do I call you?"

The figure considered Matt's question for a moment.

"I suppose that you having a name to use is appropriate. You can call me . . . . Mister Fear."

Matt chuckled.

"Mister Fear. Really? Where did you get that one? A comic book?"

"You don't turn away the name you've been given by the press. You embrace it. You take on the persona of a vigilante who goes out in the night to right the wrongs of his city. Because you think that your fist is the justice this city deserves. Today isn't about me, Daredevil. It's about you. About you finally learning why I do what I do, and why you and I are far more alike than you would ever be comfortable enough to admit."

"We're nothing alike."

"Come up the stairs and we'll see."

Matt started walking up the staircase, making sure to tread carefully in case of a trap. Once he was at the top of the stairs, he sensed a heartbeat coming from the end of the hall. Old man. At least in his sixties. Shivering. Huddled in the corner of the hall, wrapped in a coat and a ragged, soiled blanket. Clearly starving and struggling just to stay conscious.

"Go to the third door on the right."

The old man coughed as he looked up, seemingly unfazed by the sound of the voice coming from the speakers. Matt shook his head before going towards the door. Standing just outside of it, he focused his hearing. He could not sense anything moving on the other side. No heartbeats, no other sounds. However, he could feel a slight emanation of heat.

Matt inhaled as he grasped the doorknob. Pulling it open, he then slowly stepped through the doorway. Once inside the room, he discovered that the heat was coming from a set of four candles placed on the floor. They were arranged around an object slumped next to the wall. Matt gently smacked his fist against his chest to give himself a better read of the room.

The object was the corpse of a young woman. Matt winced as he made out that she was naked, with her neck sliced wide open. Dried blood had poured from her wound and her eyes, and some of it had been used to write a message on the wall. The heat allowed Matt to get a visual read on the blood.

 _HER BODY IS MY CANVAS_

Matt clenched his jaw.

"One of the earlier ones," said the voice. "She was struggling to survive as a prostitute. She offered her services to me on the street. I gladly accepted, but I was not seeking the services she thought she would provide. Her tears were so lovely."

Matt turned his head down.

"You thought Jennifer Leigh was my first? No. Jennifer Leigh was my public debut."

"You're a psychopath," said Matt.

"No, I'm really not. Just your everyday, average serial killer who likes to murder young women. Fairly common, really. The fact that I have a costume and a calling card, well, that's just window dressing. But how many people dress up in a costume, and go out into the night, taking the law into their own hands, and honestly think they're doing it for the greater good? If anyone here is a psychopath . . . . it's you."

Matt groaned, but did not offer a retort.

"Go back to the stairs and go up another level. We'll see each other soon."

* * *

Dakota placed her back against the wall, holding her pistol with both hands. Closing her eyes for a moment, she focused on slowing her breathing. Once she was ready, she aimed her gun forward and peered around the corner. The doorway was open, with the door having a "Do Not Enter" sign taped onto it.

Dakota lowered her gun upon realizing that no one was in the room. However, she could still hear some kind of bubbling noise. The room was a vacant and decaying apartment, so she wasn't sure what the noise could possibly be. She then coughed as she felt heat coming from the bathroom. As she made her way there, she heard the bubbling grow louder.

A shower curtain was blocking her view of the tub. Holding her pistol at the ready, Dakota reached for the curtain and pulled it to the side. She had to immediately place her free hand over her mouth to deafen the sound of her gasp.

"Oh fuck!"

Inside the tub was a barrel of perchloric acid, in which the body of a male police officer was dissolving. She recognized him as an officer from the 15th Precinct. Only half of his face, his right arm and part of one of his legs were still sticking out of the liquid.

"Jesus Christ."

Dakota took a few steps back, knowing that there was nothing she could do for him. She then heard a voice coming in through some sort of speaker. It was faint, and coming from the upper levels.

"Jennifer Leigh was my public debut."

Scowling, Dakota left the room and headed for the stairs. She held her pistol at the ready, slowly making her way upwards.

* * *

Mister Fear watched Daredevil's progress from his control room. He was sitting in a chair in front of a set of monitors, which showed him footage from various hidden cameras he had installed throughout the building. He watched Daredevil arrive on the sixth floor. He watched as Karen continued to struggle against her restraints.

He raised an eyebrow as he saw Dakota moving up a set of stairs on the lower levels.

* * *

"First door on the left."

Matt opened the door without hesitation. He knew that time for Karen was short, but he also knew that he had to play along with Mister Fear's game until he revealed her location. He could sense another heartbeat on this floor, but he had no way of knowing who it was. His blood was boiling with rage at this point, but he knew that any outburst might set the killer off. He called on his inner strength to maintain his resolve.

Inside of the room, Matt found another naked corpse with blood tears, but this one was sprawled on the floor. More candles were placed around her body, and a pentagram had been drawn underneath her in her own blood. More blood had been used to write another message on the wall.

 _HER HEART IS MY PALETTE_

Matt clenched both of his fists.

"This one was interesting. I saw her at the park, and I knew I had to have her for myself. I watched her from the rooftops until I knew her pattern. Then, when the time was right, I abducted her when no one was looking. She was a university student. Her family is still looking for her, as far as I can tell. They say this type of girl has a bright future, but there's no future in the world we live in. I gave her a real future. I released her, and showed the world what she could really be."

"How many?" asked Matt. "How many lives have been lost because of your sick fantasies?"

"You're presuming that this world has a life to live. There's no beauty in this world. Only through death can true potential be achieved. Why do you think I let you live that night we fought?"

Matt gulped.

"You know I could have killed you if I wanted to. You were incapacitated. I could have walked right up to you and skewered your heart with my scythe. But I didn't. Do you want to know why?"

Matt heard a faint buzzing sound, almost like a type of electric current. He couldn't be certain, but he thought he could hear it from one of the rooms on the floor above him.

"I'm sure you'll tell me either way," said Matt.

"I didn't kill you because you don't deserve it."

Matt scoffed.

"What?"

"You don't deserve a beautiful death. You don't deserve to be released, to become art the way these women have. Their beauty has earned them that right. But you were trying to stop my work. Letting you have the privilege of joining them would have devalued what they have become."

"I thought you said we were alike."

"We are. We're both men shrouded in darkness. Whether you admit it or not, I know that you're aware of the futility of civilized life. That's why you wear the mask. Why you go out in the night to satisfy your darkest urges. Why you adopt a persona to make up for the failings of the life society has granted you."

"I do what I do to help people."

"And so do I. You just don't understand it yet. But you will. You will when you see her."

"No more games," said Matt. "Where's Karen?"

Mister Fear chuckled.

"So you do care about her. Wonderful. Now you'll understand. Go to the room at the very far end of the hall. It's labelled Room 101."

Matt turned around and headed for the door.

"She's waiting for you."

Matt ripped the door open and started running down the hall. He got to the end of it, and placed his fingers against the plate. He could feel that the words "Room 101" were indeed etched into the metal. As he reached for the door, the faint scent of a familiar perfume managed to break through the smell of decay.

He burst through the door, and Karen looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Daredevil!"

Karen was sitting in a chair in the centre of the room. Along with a lone, dim light bulb shining directly on her, several candles were placed in a circle around her. She was tied to the chair with a thick cable wrapped around both her arms and her legs. A couple of wires were wrapped around her wrists. She looked completely exhausted, and her eyes were bloodshot. Matt could sense one last message written on the wall in blood.

 _HER SOUL IS MY MASTERPIECE_

Karen started crying as she stared at Matt.

"Please, oh God, please, please, get me, get me out of here."

"I will," said Matt.

Matt took a couple steps towards her before the sound of Mister Fear's voice came in through the speakers.

"I wouldn't do that, Daredevil. At least, not until you've heard me out. Otherwise, no one is getting out of this alive."

Karen looked upward in fear.

"What do you mean?!" asked Matt.

"We're going to have a final test, Daredevil. To see if you can truly understand the meaning of my work. Let's start off with the deterrent. If you try to remove Karen Page from that chair, and you rip the wires attached to her wrists, then this entire building will explode."

"WHAT?!" yelled Matt.

Karen gulped.

"Oh God . . . ."

"Look at the left wall, Daredevil."

Matt turned to the left. He sensed a large scythe blade that was mounted on the wall, along with the gas gun. The blade was the same size as the one that Mister Fear used on his gauntlet.

"That's it. That blade will be what releases Karen Page from this world."

"What are you talking about?" asked Matt.

"This is your test. Those wires on Miss Page's wrists are attached to a heartbeat monitor. That monitor is acting as the trigger device for a set of explosives that have been placed all over this building. In two minutes, if her heart is still beating, this building will explode, killing not only everyone inside, but most likely hundreds of people in the adjacent structures."

Karen sobbed. Matt honed his senses onto the electricity in the wrist wires, which confirmed what Mister Fear was saying.

"If you tear those wires and try to get her out of the chair, the explosives will be set off. The only way to save yourself, the people living in this building, and everyone nearby is to take up my challenge. Use the gun, then the blade. Cut her throat. Release her, and help me create my masterpiece. This is my final tribute to Kate, the love of my life. She showed me that there's nothing more beautiful than a dead woman. She showed me what art could be."

"YOU BASTARD!"

"I'm a visionary, Daredevil. And now, you'll finally understand why. Time's running out. And remember . . . ."

Karen continued to cry.

"Don't be afraid."

Matt put his hands over his face, not knowing what to do. Karen shook her head as tears streamed down both cheeks.

"Just do it," she said. "Do it, and stop him. Please. Please . . . ."

"No. I can't. I can't."

"It's the only way."

Matt shook his head and closed his eyes, knowing that he only had seconds to make a choice.

* * *

Dakota ran up the stairs to the seventh and final floor, having heard all of Mister Fear's dialogue over the speakers. She knew that she only had seconds to spare. The floor only had one small hallway, with a room at the very end. With her pistol at the ready, she kicked the door down. She saw a computer station with several monitors, but no one was in the chair.

Stepping into the room, she aimed her gun around, looking for any sign of the villain. The last corner for her to check was the one he was waiting in. He leaped towards her, seizing her with both hands. She shouted as he knocked her gun away and wrapped his fingers around her throat.

"You don't deserve a beautiful death. For your interference, you'll be dissolved."

He then bashed her in the face with his metal mask, causing her to shout in pain. He then dragged her over to the side of the room, and pulled open a small closet. Another barrel of perchloric acid was inside. Punching her in the back of the head, he then started pushing Dakota towards the acid. She struggled against him, but she was still dazed from his ambush.

"DAKOTA!"

Dakota blinked as Matt jumped into the room, holding both of his batons over his head. He then brought them down on Mister Fear's body, bashing the villain away. The force of the attack knocked Dakota against the barrel of acid, tipping it over. The acid spilled all over the floor, with most of it heading towards the computer station.

Mister Fear screamed in agony as the acid burned his gloved hands, which were placed against the floor. Matt and Dakota both scrambled out of the way as the acid short-circuited the computer station. Matt then heard all of the electronics power down, cutting off energy to the explosive circuits. Dakota then looked down and saw that the acid was about to eat through the floor.

With Room 101 right beneath it.

"Get him!" said Dakota. "I'll save Karen!"

Dakota sprinted back down the stairs. Matt fumed as he grabbed Mister Fear with both hands and held him up so that they were face to face.

"Your turn to be afraid," said Matt.

He yelled as he then heaved Mister Fear towards the stairs, causing him to tumble down them. At the same moment, Dakota burst into Room 101, and saw that a drop of acid had just landed between Karen's legs. She screamed as more acid started to pour down towards her. Dakota ran for Karen and grabbed her around the waist before throwing both her and the chair she was tied to out of the way.

Both Dakota and Karen barely got out of the acid's range in time. Karen was knocked unconscious, and Dakota then grabbed the scythe blade. Meanwhile, Matt grabbed Mister Fear off the floor and bashed him against the wall. He then reached for the mask and tore it off, revealing a face he did not recognize.

Matt then started repeatedly punching him in the face. Each blow was more savage and powerful than the last, fuelled by all of the rage and fear that Matt had been feeling during his time in the condemned building. After eleven blows, the villain's face was bruised and bloody. He then chuckled as he looked up at Matt.

Matt fumed and held his fist back, ready to deliver another punch.

"What's so funny?"

"You. You and your brand of vigilante justice."

The villain coughed before continuing.

"You're so terrified of just accepting who you are. Do it. Release me. You know you want to. I can feel it. Kill me, and be who you truly are in the dark."

Matt clenched his fist tighter and prepared to punch him again. But then, his thoughts went back to his father's fateful words.

 _"No matter how scared you are, Matty, don't ever let them know it. Make them think you're the most fearless man in the world."_

Matt let go of his fist as he finally understood the wisdom his father had tried to impart on him all those years ago. He let go of the man before him and stood back up. A couple seconds later, the man closed his eyes and passed out. Matt then took a deep breath, knowing that the ordeal was finally over.

"Matt?"

Matt felt his heart nearly stop as he turned to face Dakota. She was standing a few metres away from him. Matt could sense that she had cut Karen's bonds and carried her unconscious body out into the hall.

"Dakota."

"You're . . . . you're . . . ."

"Yeah. I'm . . . . I'm sorry."

Matt then ran towards one of the other rooms before jumping out the window. Dakota cried for a few seconds before looking at the unconscious man before her.

He was Larry, the co-worker of Jacob Griffin that she had interviewed.


	12. Without Fear

Earth-717: Daredevil Vol 1

Chapter 12: Without Fear

Rachel scowled as she burst into the room, with Sarah at her side.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?"

"Trial's over," said Foggy. "Jacob's going free. Sounds like you just got a loss on your record."

Rachel folded her arms as she looked at Dakota, Matt and Foggy.

"What happened?"

Dakota smirked.

"We caught the real guy. Lawrence Cranston. He's in there right now."

Dakota pointed towards the interview room. Larry was inside, with his heavily bandaged hands chained to the desk. Brett was with him, writing down some details on a document.

"My partner's making some final adjustments to his statement," said Dakota. "Cranston has confessed to the murders of Jennifer Leigh, Stacy Krisman, one police officer and several other women, as well as the kidnapping and attempted murder of Karen Page. We found multiple bodies at a condemned building on 48th Street, where he was arrested. All of the bodies match his M.O. The 15th Precinct is combing over the building now, gathering enough evidence to lock his ass behind bars for three lifetimes even if he didn't confess."

Rachel clenched her jaw as she glared at Larry.

"He also confirmed how he managed to enter the apartments of both victims," continued Dakota. "He worked at the same Oscorp chemical facility as Griffin, explaining the toxicant. But he was also sneaking into the building next door. Mack's Mattresses. He cut holes in the bottom of mattresses the victims had ordered and hid himself inside. That was how he smuggled himself into the apartments without leaving any signs of forced entry."

"This case is over," said Matt, holding his cane with both hands. "We've already contacted Judge Lewis. Jacob Griffin is being released pending final approval of Mister Cranston's statement."

Rachel sneered. Sarah gulped.

"Oooh," said Foggy. "That's gotta sting. Don't worry. Maybe you could balance the scales again if you prosecute Cranston? I mean, he's more than likely going to plead guilty, so it shouldn't be that hard. I'm sure you can handle it."

"You think this is a joke?" asked Rachel.

"No," said Matt. "We think this is justice."

Rachel flared her nostrils.

"You may think that today is a victory for Nelson & Murdock. But this is just one case, and someday, you might find that the eventual cost of this will far outweigh the immediate gain. We'll see each other again. I'll make sure of it."

Rachel and Sarah then turned around and walked away.

"I'll go and check to see how Brett is doing," said Dakota.

Dakota then entered the room, closing the door behind her. Matt sighed. Foggy looked at his friend before gently punching him in the shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "This is a happy moment, right? You don't look happy."

"I just, I don't know how to explain . . . ."

"Hey, it's alright. No need."

Matt raised an eyebrow.

"Dakota called me. Told me the whole story."

"The whole . . . .?"

"Yeah. Said that Cranston called you and threatened you, told you about him taking Karen. You freaked out, thinking you could do something, before you put your head back on straight and told Dakota. I mean, it's alright, I get it. You wanted to help, and that's good. But Dakota's a cop. Should probably leave the whole beating up the bad guys thing to her."

Matt chuckled.

"Heh. Yeah. Sorry. It's not like I'm a hero."

Foggy smiled and put his hand on Matt's shoulder.

"Yeah, you are. Lawyers are heroes too. I bet Jacob would agree with that."

"Yeah. Bet he would."

"Come on. We got things to do, partner. Karen could probably use a visit, and Jacob needs the good news."

* * *

After retrieving Karen from the hospital, and her insisting that she was okay, the three members of Nelson & Murdock returned to the court house. Jacob Griffin was officially released, and he changed from his inmate uniform back into his civilian clothes. They told him about Larry, and about how he had confessed to the murders after his capture.

"Still can't believe it," said Jacob, as they walked down the steps of the court house. "Larry Cranston. I always considered him a friend."

The group stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Jacob sighed.

"Shows what I know."

"None of this was your fault," said Karen. "You couldn't have known. What's important is that you're free, and you're innocent. We're just happy we could help you out of this."

"And you did. All of you. Thank you all so much."

"It's what we do," said Foggy.

"Doesn't change that she's gone," said Jacob, frowning. "But at least now, she can rest. And maybe someday I can put my life back together."

Matt held out his hand.

"We wish you the best of luck, Jacob. If you ever need further legal counsel, don't hesitate."

Jacob shook Matt's hand.

"Just don't forget the cheque," said Foggy, chuckling.

Jacob smiled.

"I won't."

Jacob then turned around and started walking down the street. Matt, Karen and Foggy all turned to each other.

"Gotta say, Murdock," said Foggy. "I think this is the start of something beautiful."

"Certainly hope so."

"I just hope not every case we take on involves me getting kidnapped by some psycho," said Karen. "Not the kind of workplace hazard I was expecting. And uh, once Jacob's cheque clears . . . ."

"You'll get your share, don't worry," said Matt. "We keep our promises. I'll make sure Foggy doesn't blow it all on hot dogs or something."

"I like hot dogs," said Karen, shrugging.

Foggy smiled and pointed at Karen.

"Thank you! See, this is my kind of woman!"

* * *

Her arms folded, Rachel silently stood inside her office. She stared out at the city as the sun disappeared over the horizon. She lost track of time as she fumed, knowing that the outcome of the Jacob Griffin case was going to have an adverse effect on her campaign platform. Then, she was suddenly jostled out of her thoughts by her phone ringing.

She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and held it to her ear.

"Rachel Dreyfuss."

"Rachel."

"Senator. What can I do for you?"

"Please, call me Randolph. I called as soon as I heard about the outcome of the Griffin case. That had to be something of a blow. I know you wanted to look good right before the election."

Rachel sighed.

"Yes, well, that's not going to happen now."

"Don't sound so defeated, Rachel. That's not the woman I know. The one who would throttle anyone who got in her way."

Rachel scoffed.

"Why don't you just go ahead and ask me whatever it is you called to ask me?"

"I want to have another meeting. Dinner this time. However, we're going to be joined by someone I want you to meet. Someone who has helped me, and now, I believe, he can help you."

"Help me with what? Who is this man?"

"You'll find out. Let's just say, that if you're still interested in being District Attorney, you'll strongly consider his offer."

Rachel narrowed her eyes.

* * *

Letting out a deep breath, Karen stepped into her apartment. After locking the door, she placed her purse on the floor and headed for the bathroom. She took a long, hot shower, crying the entire time. After drying herself off and putting on more comfortable clothes, she returned to the living room and stared down at her purse.

Karen sighed as she reached into it, finding the heroin bag she had purchased from Blackie after she left the court house. Rubbing her forehead, she then walked over to the cupboard where she kept her needle.

* * *

Matt was in the middle of meditating when he heard a knock at his door. After standing up, he made his way to the entrance. He knew who would be waiting for him on the other side.

"Dakota."

"Can we talk?"

Matt nodded before gesturing for her to enter. He closed the door behind her.

"Dakota, listen, I can . . . ."

"I don't need you to explain. I don't really think you could. Not in a way that will make any sense to me. Like, how you could do all the things you do when you're . . . ."

"I am blind, Dakota. I am. But when I lost my sight, my other senses, they . . . . improved. It's why I can do what I do."

Dakota shook her head.

"Unbelievable. I don't care how you pull all that parkour shit off, Matt. You lied to me. I told you about Ricky. What happened when I found out the truth. How could you keep that from me?"

"How was I supposed to tell you?! Oh, hey Dakota, sorry about your brother, but by the way, I happen to jump across rooftops at night as a costumed vigilante! You wanna let me know how I'm supposed to bring that up?!"

Dakota closed her eyes. Matt frowned.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You don't have to apologize. But I can't be with you if this is what you do. I can't do it."

"Dakota, please. Don't, don't walk away. I know we can have something good. Something real."

"We did, Matt. We could have. But not like this."

Dakota walked back to the door. She was about to leave when she looked over her shoulder.

"Your secret's safe with me," she said. "I promise."

And with that, Dakota was gone. While Matt spent some time lamenting her walking out of his life this way, he was also more convinced than ever that being Daredevil was the right choice. He had stopped Mister Fear. He had saved Karen. And as Matt ran across the rooftops of Hell's Kitchen, he remembered another name the press gave him that he finally felt he could embrace.

The Man Without Fear.

THE END

Daredevil Will Return

* * *

Epilogue

Turk, along with two of his crew, were dragged into an office by security staff. The office was in a luxurious building, and the decor inside indicated that it was owned by a man with refined and expensive tastes. Turk noticed that there were several pieces of art hanging on the walls, including one he recognized from when he had tried to kidnap a woman from the Scene Contempo Gallery.

"On your knees."

One of the security officers kicked Turk in the leg, and he fell to his knees. The other two men went down without hesitation. Turk looked forward to see Vanessa, the woman he had tried to kidnap, standing before him. She was next to a tall, imposing man with a bald head, a black suit and the kind of glare that could break a man without a single word.

Turk gulped as he looked up at the man before him. He fiddled with the cufflink on his left sleeve for a moment before he spoke.

"You tried to take something from me. I don't appreciate that."

"Yo man," said Turk. "We was just followin' orders. Take it up with Don Rigoletto man! We, we work for him! D-Didn't know we were kidnapping your lady!"

Vanessa sneered.

"I know who you work for," said the man. "Worked, I should say. Mister Rigoletto is no longer with us. He suffered greatly before passing. He paid the price for trying to hurt Vanessa."

Turk and his friends glanced at each other in fear.

"But, you need not share his fate. I'm looking to, to expand my operations. You would continue your work, but now you would work for me."

Turk smiled.

"Sure thing, boss man! Anything you need. You're aces in my books! What do I call ya?"

"Call me . . . . the Kingpin."


End file.
